Samsara
by JJOAS
Summary: Amanda Price and Wikham: Lost in Austen. Girl reincarnated into Amanda with magic. Boy reincarnated as Wikham. Love abound. World Building.
1. Prologue

Samsara

Amanda Price and Wikham: Lost in Austen

Girl reincarnated into Amanda with magic.

Boy reincarnated as Wikham.

Love abound.

AN: I don't own Lost in Austen or Pride and Prejudice. I own my characters, this premise, and what happens in the story.

Prologue

Incandescent stars winked and blinked in an inky sky. Two moons loomed ever closer. The air felt frigid, parched, and tight. She morosely recalled how in another life, one on Earth, that the air had tasted sweeter, cooler, fuller, and freer than the air here.

Erica Zanfloran wheezed in a whooping breath and rubbed at her aching eyes. She hated this planet. She hated this diminutive dingy room. This decrepit, crumbling and abandoned space port brought her little relief from the raging elements. A bitter sweet smile tugged at her dry lopsided mouth as hunger gnawed at her bones. She felt as though she were wasting away. Her bones felt brittle and heavy at the same time. Bright spots had started encroaching against her vision yesterday, and today it was only getting worse. Things had been better back then.

This wasn't Erica's first life. In fact, with the ongoing cycle of life and death, this was her forty-first attempt at life in a long line of adventures past. It also wasn't the first apocalyptic life she had ever led, but it was the first where she had magic. Magic that she had bound away into her soul for a chance at life with loved ones even amongst the ruins of civilization on a foreign planet. It didn't matter much now, since the people who had promised them their freedom at the expense of her reality bending magic had lied. This life felt like a big fat lie.

As another shuddering cough overtook her, Erica's squinty hazel eyes prickled with fat tears as she thought about her long deceased family and friends. She wiped away the blood that had splattered out of her mouth, during another coughing fit, against her almost skeletal forearm. There was no food or water in this abandoned relic of a place either. The looters and raiders had probably taken everything that had been worth taking.

She idly wondered in her dimming vision if she could have another shot at trying again. Or would she finally die for good this time? If not, would the next one start at the beginning? Would it be on Earth? Her Earth? Would she take some poor person's fully grown body like back in life five, seven, and fourteen? Would she even be human again? She'd lived life as a sentient tree once. It had been wonderfully peaceful. Would she still have magic? All these questions and more swirled around her darkening mind.

Wheezing, she brokenly hummed a long forgotten tune to comfort the hunger that tore at her gut. Her somber melody echoed against the crumbling walls around her as her heart spluttered its last beats.

Unknown to Erica, her cycle of life and death would continue once more, but in a fashion she had least expected.

* * *

Amanda Price was a rather ordinary girl. She loved Jane Austen's novel Pride and Prejudice, was proud that she had recently become a bank manager, had tenuous ties with her family, and was rather fond of fantasizing about living life as a rich housewife. She had just gotten her first flat alone and had been on her way back into London when life intervened.

Her obligatory visits to her family always left her feeling drained. Tonight was no different, even if it was supposed to be a celebration of her new found independence. At least she got her laundry done at her parents' place.

Amanda was driving down the bend a couple miles away from her parent's house. Her mother and father were finalizing their divorce, her younger brother had graduated, got a real salaried job, and married ahead of her. Her family didn't have time for her any more, and it didn't help that her sister-in-law wasn't the fondest of her either. They had gotten their lives together without her. These distracting thoughts pecked at the forefront of her mind.

The night sky provided only sparse light as the stars that peppered it twinkled and winked down onto the dark road. The lights on this road were always broken or off for one reason or another, and this only worsened the fact that one of her VW bus's headlights was out. She vowed that she would save up some money and get it fixed. If she could ever save up anything. Her degree only brought her debt and not the money or success everyone else bragged about.

She yawned and grunted at the dark thoughts that kept bombarding her. Sometimes she hated her life.

That was the last thought Amanda Price, of this world, would ever have. A moving van screeched and swerved into her lane. Its high beams blinded her as she swerved off the edge of the hill this road was on. All she could hear was the slow stuttering of her heart as a blinding white light erased her from this time in a single second as her heart stopped.

* * *

Dawn broke over the horizon as birds began their morning songs. Dew clung onto the plants and rocks scattered around the meadow. The wind blew through the sparse trees and along the long blades of green grass around a pristine VW bus.

Erica let out a groan and held her head in her hands. She blinked against the light that caressed her face and blinded her vision for a moment. She rubbed her eyes and let out a gasp. The air! The gravity! There were real living plants around her too! She strained her ears and beamed when she managed to hear bird song. Real living birds! Earth birds she so desperately hoped.

This wasn't where she was before. Looking down she noticed more differences that proved she wasn't still dying in a decrepit ruin. Last time she had checked her skin was a vibrant blue, not this pinkish white. Besides that, the sunrises there had always been an emerald green. The warm rays of sunlight that touched her looked yellow and so much like the light she had grew up with during her many human incarnations.

Erica unbuckled her seat belt and stumbled out of the vehicle. Bipedal. That was always a good sign. She warily eyed the VW bus and her surroundings. If this was her next life, it was arguably better than her last. She was happy to human again. At least it felt like she was human this time. It felt like a little bit like coming home after a very long journey, even if she wasn't in her original skin. She shivered. It was an odd thought that always traced the back of her mind like a branch scratching against a window pane.

She rubbed her temples as a wave of pain throbbed in her head. Erica slid down the side of the VW bus and let out a slightly hysterical laugh. The beginning of each new life always made her feel just a little off kilter. Kind of like that feeling you get when you take an extra step up the stairs and realize that you've miscalculated and begin to fall.

She sighed and looked up at the bright blue sky, "Another body snatcher life? Well I can't complain. This place is a million times better than the last body snatcher life."

Was her name still Erica here? It always felt odd getting a new identity, a new name, and sometimes, if she was lucky, a new family. She just hoped that she lasted longer here than before. She hoped she wouldn't have to die in any of the repugnant ways she had before. Erica shook away the awful gut wrenching fear that she would be raped to death again, starve to death again, and the other tear inducing possibilities that the universe had shown her. One thing that she certainly learned was that people weren't inherently good. Some people were just monsters with kind faces.

She screwed her eyes shut and grunted, "Fuck. My head feels like it's going to split open." Her usual optimism despite her insane cursed cycling life persisted despite the obvious trauma that impacted her during each recycle.

She pried her new eyes open and shook her head as she sighed morosely, "What I wouldn't do for some ibuprofen and cold water."

A sudden weight startled her into staring at her lap in utter bafflement. A large bottle of Advil and a cold glass water bottle now lay in her lap against her cold hands.

"Okay. Okay... Calm. I need calm. Do I really have magic in this life too? Also, whose body is this? Am I actually human? I think I feel human. Where and when am I? Am I on Earth? If I am on Earth, which Earth am I on?" she murmured to herself as she opened the Advil and water bottle. She popped in two pills into her mouth and gulped down some water.

Time wasn't as linear as people thought it would be, Erica had lived through enough centuries, among many different sentient beings, on different planets, and had swapped between each gender enough times to see that time was just a jumbled ball of yarn when you really got down to it... At least that was her opinion.

She took a couple more gulps of water and sighed. Erica felt more alert and energized than she had in a long time. She got up and slowly investigated the van she'd been resting against.

The VW bus was a dark green and seemed sturdy from what she could see. She'd never been good at identifying types of cars in any life time so she couldn't deduce what year this was just by inspecting it further.

Erica rooted through the car and found several things of interest. A dark brown leather purse, a large full brown paper bag that said Murroway Grocers, a fairly large rucksack, a tool kit, an emergency roadside kit, and a first aid bag were all she could find. The rest of the VW bus looked fairly empty.

She poked through the plain purse and pulled out a long black leather wallet. Unzipping the wallet, Erica found out whose body she had taken over this time. The driver's license said that it belonged to one Amanda Cecilia Price. The card said she was born on October 24th 1986. She apparently lived in Hammersmith, England. A bit of guilt trickled into her, guilt that she squashed down and away. She knew from experience that she never took the place of anyone that wasn't already dead. There was no need to feel guilt, she repeatedly stated in her mind.

Erica slid out of the back of the vehicle and peered around her with a frown. If this was England, it didn't look like any England she had been in during the 21st century in her recent last life cycles. She bit her lip in thought and slid back in, closing the door behind her firmly. She leaned back in the driver's seat and continued looking through her supposed purse. Looking closer at the license it said that it had been given in 1998 and was due to expire in August 2006. She gazed at the picture on the license and did the math. With the dates in mind, she guessed that this body was probably around 20 or 21. She figured that a peek at a mirror would confirm her hunch, and that she wasn't in the body of a purse thief.

Erica hummed to herself and dug further into the purse. She found an iphone, a compact mirror, what appeared to be a makeup bag, a couple black fountain pens, a sharpie, a pencil case, a travel card, an access card, a compact umbrella, a charging cable, Tylenol, a compact shopping bag, and keys.

A grin spread across her face. She had one of those old school iphone back in life nine when she was a kid. She'd been a young Japanese boy back then. That had been a nice life. Stressful since she had been reincarnated at the very beginning, but that family had really loved her. Tears leaked from her eyes as she reminisced about the families that had truly loved her. The warmth and safety that she had felt during those times made her heart feel heavy. She shook off those thoughts and scrubbed at her eyes. It wasn't time to reminisce. She had to figure out where and when the fuck she was...

She clicked the home button and found that the iphone could still light up. Its battery was fully charged, and the front screen stated that it was July 20th 2006, 5:17 am. It had no bars though. Erica bit her inner cheek and shoved everything back into the purse. Peering around the meadow through the window, she carefully snuck out of her vehicle and wandered around. She found a cluster of trees nearby along with a dirt road. Her brow furrowed. It didn't seem like she was in 2006. There wasn't any power lines, any sort of trail, or anything indicating that people usually went here. She retreated back into the vehicle, let out a deep sigh and poked through the large paper bag.

It had two containers of tupperware full of what looked to be leftovers; sliced pieces of roast chicken, veggies, scalloped potatoes and rice respectively. Beside the containers were a large bottle of shampoo, soap, some tampons, and a box of stainless steel cutlery. Under all of that was a thick grey faux fur blanket, and toilet paper rolls.

She tore open the cutlery and dug into the food with gusto. Erica couldn't recall the last time she had eaten anything in a very long time.

She let out a happy moan and leaned back against her seat after she finished eating. Looking at the butter knife, a resolute look crossed her face. She refused to die by anyone's hands but hers this time. She refused to feel as helpless and as week as she had in the other cycles when she was alone like this. After making that decision, Eric rinsed off the butter knife and laid it flat against her palm. She stared at the knife with gritted teeth till it twisted and contorted into a decently sized slim dagger. If she had to go, she'd go fighting and on her own terms this time.

Leaning further back against the van, she let out a sad sound. Erica guessed that she should figure out what she looked like, and if she had all or just some of her magic.

She tapped her lower lip with her finger tip and let out a deep sigh, "I should stop calling myself Erica. It might be a weird name in this place. Wherever and whenever I may be..."

She fiddled with her license and narrowed her eyes to reread the name printed on it through the streaming light. Amanda Cecilia Price. She frowned and made a decision, "I'll go with Cecilia. It was pretty common in both the far past and future. Amanda not so much... I think."

Erica...no Cecilia... Cecilia picked up her compact and stared at herself. She frowned at the artificial bottle red hair, and bad bangs. She had a squarish face now, pale skin, full lips, a straight nose, and hazel eyes. She smiled at herself and found that she also had dimples along with straight white teeth. Well, at least there was that. She cringed at the thought of having shitty teeth in what could possibly be the past. She did not miss substandard dentistry from any era before the 20th century.

Cecilia squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head vigorously. Her hair slowly changed from a dark sharpie red into thick dark brown locks that lengthened past her shoulders and loosely curled. Her old bangs grew out along with the rest of her hair. Opening her eyes she found that only her hair had changed.

She choked back a cry and held back tears that threatened to fall. She certainly did have more than a smidge of magic, probably not all of it, but enough she supposed. This was the hair she had from her last life as a human girl. She didn't recall a lot from that cycle since it was so far back, let alone her name there, but she had always recalled how that mother would run her fingers through her hair whenever she was upset. She touched her hair in slight awe and despair before chastising herself. There wasn't time to be depressed. It wasn't like there'd be daylight forever.

She felt the usual drain on her strength with using magic, and figured that the same rules of magic applied from her last life. Magic cost stamina.

Happy with that thought, she pulled over the rucksack and poked through it. She found a bunch of clean laundry. She supposed that was handy. She found a leather belt and furrowed her brow. She'd need to keep the dagger on hand and not just nearby. She'd learned that the hard way. Holding the dagger and leather belt together she laid them onto the ground and snapped her fingers. With a twist and a shake, the dagger and belt seemed to meld together in a haze before lifting up into the air and plopping back onto the ground. Picking up the dagger and it's sheath, Cecilia strapped it onto her right arm.

A cynical smile stole across her face before she snorted, "Better safe than sorry."

She sighed and stretched out her new shorter legs and checked on her wristwatch. It was already noon. She tilted her head back and thought about what she'd have to do.

Dirt roads and no power lines along with no phone towers most likely meant the far flung past, which was both good and bad. It was safer to assume the past because a stagecoach could be explained away, a car not so much.

She dragged all her new stuff out of the vehicle and stared at it with her hands on her hips.

"I can totally do this," Cecilia nodded to herself, trying to lift up her spirits. She hadn't practiced that much intentional magic in a long while and a tiny part of her feared that something would go wrong.

She took in a deep breath and snapped her fingers. The VW bus slowly twisted, creaked, and contorted into a stagecoach. She leaned in and tapped the dark green stagecoach with her finger and it seemed to ripple for a moment before changing into a shiny black color. Cecilia took a step back and happily gazed at her work. The weariness that tugged at her body was expected and she shook it off. She'd deal with her renewed hunger and thirst after doing a couple more tasks. Daylight was waning and she didn't want to get caught unaware by anyone. If this was the far flung past, she'd have good cover, and if this was the future...then she could just say it was for a movie. People always bought shit like that.

She conjured up two large heavy leather steamer trunks and popped them open. She emptied out the brown bag, the tool kit, the emergency roadside kit, and the first aid bag along with the rucksack and emptied it all between the two trunks minus the food. Gently folding the rucksack and brown bag, she stowed them away into a trunk as well. After accomplishing that task, Cecilia sat down and dug into the other tupperwear container of food as she finished off the last little bit of water in her water bottle. She didn't have anything left for dinner, water or food, but she figured that she'd be able to conjure up some water at the very least later on. Hopefully if she found out the proper era or something close, she could conjure up some time current money for more supplies after taking a break later on.

With a grunt, she hefted up the now heavy trunks onto the luggage carrying part of the stage coach and pursed her lips in thought. She deftly swiped her purse off of the ground, and caressed it slowly as her brow furrowed in concentration. The black leather purse clutched in her hands slowly morphed into a black leather satchel. A bead of sweat dripped down her temple and she let out an irritated sigh before she wiped it away.

The sun had already dipped lower in the sky and the air seemed cooler. She glanced at her watch and cursed. It was already around 4 pm. A disappointed sigh escaped her slightly chapped lips as she hefted herself up into her newly transfigured stagecoach. The cold would come in at night, and she didn't really know if there were things that could eat her around here. Shaking her head, she made a decision. The next animals that went by her would have to be transfigured into horses, no matter how distasteful it seemed.

She stared through the glass window in the stagecoach and waited. She waited. And waited. And waited. Finally after an hour of watching a seemingly empty darkening meadow, two rabbits popped up in her vision. She jolted up in her seat and sharply snapped her fingers while keeping an eye on her two targets. They let out rabbit screams of anguish as magic ripped, molded, and contorted them into two brown horses. Both animals looked startled and hurt in their new forms, but she squashed the pity that was rising from her gut as she dashed out of the stagecoach towards them. As she ran towards them she plucked a long strand of grass as she ran by and tightly gripped it. She shook it and it soon morphed into two leather harnesses for the horses. She looped it over their necks and gently guided the dazed animals towards her stagecoach.

After harnessing them in, which was pure guess work and luck on her part, she looked down at her clothes and frowned. Just to cover her bases, she turned her thick dark wool coat into a long wool cloak with a hood. Her jeans and t-shirt were transfigured into a long empire waist dress that fell past her knees with just a shimmy and a shake. Her cotton socks turned into wool tights. Her brown leather ankle boots were transfigured into taller sturdy leather boots with just a shake of each foot. It was best to try and blend in as much as possible, and she'd rather be deemed old fashioned than otherworldly and stoned to death. She hated dying that way. She lifted herself up onto the stagecoach and gently grabbed a leather handle and sat down.

With a sharp snap of her fingers, the lantern that hung against the stage coach lit up and pooled light around the darkness that had started encroaching her. She shuddered a little before pulling at her courage and muttering about how she could do this. Cecilia held onto the reins and startled the horses into a gentle trot out of the meadow, past the cluster of trees and onto the dirt road. She hoped she wouldn't have to travel long before finding shelter and food.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

Cecilia shivered slightly against the cold wind that blew through the night. It had been about 3 hours before she spotted any sort of light other than her own.

The transmuted horse rabbits were luckily quite compliant to her wishes. She didn't know if it was because of her magic, luck, or simply because they'd been rabbits before, but she was happy all the same. Inwardly she cringed and thought that they might be disoriented and sad that they weren't rabbits anymore, but then she squashed that thought down. She couldn't afford to sympathize with them right now. There would be time later on. There always was.

The sweet air that she had tasted when she had first arrived in wherever and whenever this was dissipated hours ago. The air now smelt sour, with the lingering odor of shit, piss, ash, and trash. Cecilia coughed into her shoulder and gagged at the smell. She was definitely either in a very polluted place in the future or in the past before the 20th century because no other time seemed to smell this way...at least not on any Earth that she'd been on.

She bounced up and down a little as she moved her stagecoach from the dirt path that she had been on, onto a cobbled road. Cecilia found that in the distance past the smog in the sky she could make out the tall looming clock that she could never forget. It was big Ben and she now knew for sure that she was in London, but probably the past London since she recalled that this certainly wasn't what any future London looked like. She recalled being a pick pocketing street urchin during 19th century London at one point in her endless cycling.

She pulled at the reigns and the horses obediently stopped their trotting. She looked around to make sure that she was still quite alone on the cobbled road into London. Before she could lose her nerve, Cecilia concentrated and held out her hand. A heavy black leather money purse plopped into her hand making her let go of the reigns for a moment to plop the heavy coin purse into her lap, luckily hiding it amongst the folds of her thick wool cloak.

She peaked into it and found that it was all filled with gold guinea coins and silver crown coins that she had coveted back in life six as a 19th century street urchin. She figured with how much it sort of felt like a pound and a half of money which would probably be over 3000 pounds give or take.

Cecilia looked around her with narrowed eyes and made sure that no one was nearby to see what she had done, because even if witch burning wasn't as popular, she could still vividly recall being accused as one and dying in many horrific ways because of that accusation even though she never had magic back then. With a flick of her fingers a long leather strap fell into her hands, and she deftly tied it around her money pouch and attatched it all around her waist under her dress. With a slight wiggle of her fingers her pocketless dress morphed just a little. It darkened to a deep cerulean blue, hidden pockets that gave her access to her money popped into existence on her dress, along with lengthening to the tips of her boots.

Satisfied with the feeling that she was more secure and able to blend in just a little bit better she pulled on the reigns and urged the horses to go towards a nearby inn. It sat on the edge of London and it wasn't as big and spacious as what she would've probably found if she had gone deeper into London, but she knew that because of her gender in this time that, that would've been a poor choice.

The stage coach bumped up and down as they headed towards the two storey inn that gave her the vibe of a cottage that had just grown into it's present shape. She spotted a stable boy and stopped her stagecoach nearby which immediately caught the boy's attention.

His wide blue eyes were darker in the dim lamp lights that barely reached him, "Evenin', madam. Do yah need a hand?"

Just as the boy asked her this, a taller adult marched out of the inn and quickly walked over to her as well. The dim lights reached him as he came closer, and she found that it was portly man with balding hair and an dirtied apron. He wasn't much to look at, but he had kind grey eyes and a warm smile. He cuffed the boy and rolled his eyes before shooting Cecilia an apologetic look, "Em' sorry, madam. I don't see your husband, driver or anyone else. Might you need a place to stay? We got room in our inn."

Cecilia pulled down her hood and pulled on a warm smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "Good sir, I am in need of a place to rest. My husband, coachman and ladies maid were taken away by Cholera while we crossed the ocean to get here. As such, I am in need of more hired hands along with a place to rest."

His smile dimmed at the mention of Cholera, but brightened back again considerably when he caught the part about her coming from across the ocean, "Are you a colonial then, ma'am? I never did have a colonial stay at my inn. Ohhh the other inn keepers will be ripe with the green eyed devil, the will. As for hired hands, madam, there'll be plenty o' men and even wee lassies that might be keen to find some work as well."

A real smile streaked across Cecilia's face as she nodded, "Thank you, good sir. And you, fine lad, thank you as well."

The young boy, who looked to be no older than eleven when she had gotten a better look at him, blushed a bright pink that reached his big ears and accentuated the freckles on his pale face, "T'was nothin', ma'am. Let me tend to your horse and stagecoach."

The inn keeper held out a hand for Cecilia as she slowly got off of the stage coach. She smiled at the boy and turned back to the inn keeper, "I also have some luggage that I would like to come with me."

He nodded good naturedly, "O' course, madam. I'll have one of the other lads bring it up to your room. My fine missus can help you up along with me daughter. We're a family inn, you see. I'm Adelbert Hobborlain, the inn keeper."

She smiled at his introduction and nodded along while he continued to chatter on about his family. They passed the threshold of the inn and she noted that it was called the 'Hobborlain Inn'. Once at the counter near the entrance, the inn keeper quickly made his way onto the other side and hollered out for his wife. He shot Cecilia a sheepish smile while a haggard, homey looking woman hurriedly swept past her and glared at her husband.

She narrowed her eyes and blew out a stray blonde hair off of her face from her loosening braid while her hands tightened against her hips, "Adelbert, what has gotten into ye?! I was helping a paying customer and ye know that we dun get too many now with them better buildings down deeper into London."

Adelbert frowned and nodded before giving her a peck on the cheek, "But see here, my lovely Eunice, we have a genuine colonial! None of the other outskirt inns can boast that! That'll have to garner more customers when I tell the lads that." He swept his hand towards Cecilia like she was some spectacle that his wife just had to take note of.

Eunice sighed and turned to look at Cecilia. Her green eyes widened at the sight of her. Cecilia wasn't a great beauty by her standards, but she did have the looks of someone with a lot of money. From the type of fabric and color of her dress, to her cloak, clean hair, skin, and the faint smell of sweet blossoms, vanilla and blue berries emanating around her. She grinned at their new guest and nodded, "Indeed. Welcome to our inn, madam. Would you like a room? Our best room in the inn is unoccupied and is only 15 pence a night."

Adelbert gave his wife an admonishing look, "Eunice."

She turned to her husband and rolled her eyes, "Fine. It's actually 10 pence a night, dear madam."

Cecilia let out a short giggle and shook her head. It was nice that she had met genuinely kind people, well kinder than she had initially thought any ways, first rather than people that wanted to harm her. A lopsided smile pulled on her lips, "It is quite alright. I do not mind paying 15 pence a night for such kind hosts."

Eunice gave her husband a triumphant grin, "You certainly are kind and generous." She turned and seemed to spot something or someone further in the inn before hollering, "Sally! I need ye here, lass! Hop to!"

A young red headed girl sprinted towards them, her hands fisted into her apron when she managed to abruptly stop by her mother. Her breaths labored a little as she gasped out, "Yes, mother?"

Eunice pinched her daughter's cheek and motioned to Cecilia, "This is...Actually, madam,what is your name?"

Cecilia looked startled for a moment before remembering that she hadn't yet bothered to tell them her name. She gave a warm look at her new acquaintances before nodding her head slightly, "Cecilia Price, a pleasure to meet you all."

Eunice, Adelbert, and Sally looked tickled pink at that statement, but before any of them could say anything, the young boy that had handled putting the stage coach and horses into the stables popped into the inn with a dark haired man behind him helping him carry Cecilia's luggage. He gave a happy wave towards them and gestured to the man behind him with his thumb, "Ma, pa, this good sir helped me unload the madam's luggage. Says he needs work, and offered to help when I says the lady might need a strong hired hand."

Adelbert beamed at his son, "Good job, Elliot. That's me lad."

Cecilia looked on the scene around her and couldn't help but feel amused. Sure she was really very hungry now, and her throat burned a bit, but all in all in comparison to what had happened to her before, this was a dream. Cecelia nodded towards the tall dark haired handsome man, "Thank you, good sir. I appreciate your help."

A soft flush bloomed on his face for a moment before he seemed to gather himself, "It was a pleasure, ma'am." Something about him seemed familiar to her, but she couldn't quite pin point it.

Eunice raised a brow at the look that he gave Cecilia and humfed, "Well...now that we've got everything settled. My lass will show you to your room and we'll get your luggage up there as well, right quick."

Cecilia nodded, "That would be lovely, thank you Mrs. Habborlain. If it would not be a bother, I would also like a bath and some food as well."

Eunice tilted her head and hummed, "That'll be extra, Madam Price."

Cecilia smiled benignly and placed two crowns into her hand, "Please consider this payment up front for my stay here for a couple days along with any meals, baths, and whatever the like."

Eunice's face lit up, "Definitely a kind and generous lady you are."

She turned to her baffled and grinning husband, "Well go on then, get the other girls and have them set up a bath for her."

She turned to the dark haired man, "I don't know ye, but if you want to do something useful then take Madam Price's luggage up tah her room. My lad will lead ye. Sally go. Hop to it and help her to her room. Off you go now."

At Eunice's command a flurry of people and motions began while Cecilia slowly followed Sally up to her newly rented room slightly bemused with the entire encounter. They waited just a couple more moments while people hurried past them. By the time they made it up to her room, she noted that it was a bit bare, but homey other wise. A warm fire crackled in the stone hearth in the corner of the room while a large quilted bed seemed to beckon her into its soft folds. She saw that there was a steaming copper tub in the other corner of the room and noted that this wasn't a place where she could have indoor plumbing, but decided to not mention it. It wasn't like this place had looked like it would've had plumbing from the outside either.

She turned to Sally and nodded her head, "Thank you, Sally. I appreciate your help."

Sally brightly grinned at her, "T'was nothing, ma'am. Really. Did you need any help with your clothes?"

She shook her head, "No thank you, dear girl. I am able to manage this on my own." Cecilia smiled at her before she continued to peruse her room. Sally curtsied and quickly stepped out of the room with a quiet click of the door.

Cecilia sat down onto her bed and saw that the copper tub was steaming, a tray of food was set up on a nearby table, and all her luggage was safely at the end of the bed. She flopped down onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the thirst and hunger that tugged at her body, "This has been an interesting life so far."

With a glance at her wrist watch, she found that it was already 7 pm at night. It was getting late and the first days of a new life always seemed to drain her. She slipped off her wrist watch and tossed it up into the air, where it shimmered before turning into a silver pocket watch with a flowery cover. She sighed and sat up. Her magic usage made her feel far more tired than she should've been. With a flick of her fingers another large glass water bottle appeared in her hands while she made her way to the delectable smelling food.

It was a risk, but she ate her fill of the beef stew and bread that they had given her. She didn't touch the ale though. She finished up her night after cleaning herself off in the hot bath with the toiletries that she had arrived with. She figured that, what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. She did pocket the soaps and oils that they had left out for her though. They would make good back ups, just in case.

Doing her business in a chamber pot was always uncomfortable, but at least she didn't have to go outside to use an outhouse.

She looked at the stick and charcoal they provided her with and grimaced. Cecilia dug into her leather satchel and brushed her teeth with a tooth brush and toothpaste instead. Feeling refreshed and relieved she swiftly put everything back and opened up one of her steamer trunks.

Yawning, she pulled on a white t-shirt and shook her body just a bit which made it lengthen and thicken into a comfortable night dress that seemed appropriate enough for this time period.

Sleep claimed her immediately as she fell under her bed covers.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Sunlight danced through the glass panes of her room. The air smelt slightly stuffy, but Cecilia didn't give a damn. She laid on her stomach cuddling her feather pillow and burrowed away from the light that threatened to fully wake her. A knock at her door was the only thing that managed to rouse her. She peeked up from her pillow and scowled at the door. Rolling her eyes, she flopped onto her back and sighed. The day was going to have to start whether she wanted it to or not.

After the third knock she heard Sally's muffled voice call out to her, "Madam Price? Would yah like me tah help yah dress? I also got a tray of food for yah that me ma made."

Cecilia puffed out some air to blow her hair out of her face. She didn't really want any help with her clothes, especially since she hadn't gotten around to transfiguring all of Amanda Price's clothes from 2006. She shook her head and let out another sigh. It would be nice if she could have some help trying to finagle all the clothes she apparently had to have on to be a proper 'lady' of the times, but right now with how everything was...it would just lead to questions that would make her seem far too out there as an apparently rich widow. It would be a lie that she would have to stay true to in order to survive this apparent era. She could really use a newspaper. Just to confirm when she really was, and that this all wasn't some fucked up delusion. She had those now and again in certain life cycles.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself up to sit up onto her bed, "Please come in, Sally. I don't quite need help with my clothes as of yet, but I would appreciate it if you would come back after I break my morning fast. Also, please bring a newspaper with you when you come back."

The wooden door to her bedroom slowly creaked open as Sally backed into the room whilst holding a tray laden with breakfast goods, "Alright. Good morning, ma'am."

"Good morning, Sally," she nodded towards Sally, while the young girl quickly placed everything down onto the table with an efficiency that Cecilia appreciated.

Sally shot Cecilia a shy smile, "I will come back in a bit with a newspaper then, madam. If yah need me sooner, just holler and I will be right up." With a quick curtsy she hurriedly left her room with a quiet click of the door.

Cecilia's smile slipped off her face once Sally left the room, and a relieved look overcame her. The slabs of ham, cheese, bread and fried eggs assuaged her senses. The teapot smelled like Earl Grey tea and she let out a happy little moan. She decided that she would figure out what she'd have to do next in order to live a nice long and comfortable life in this cycle after breakfast. This always seemed to be her goal when she found that she was yet again not actually dead yet.

As she dug into her breakfast greedily, her mind whirring into overdrive. First, she had to transfigure the rest of her clothes into something time appropriate. Next, she'd have to deposit a tidy sum into a bank. Cecilia dully noted that she'd have to conjure much more coin just in case they'd try to gain something from her apparent widowhood without a man to hide behind. Especially if she wanted to buy a home somewhere without any questions. Inwardly, she cursed that she was a woman in this cycle. The past was much kinder to white males than anyone else on this planet. She shook her head and continued to eat while her mind whirred. Next, she'd have to find a more permanent shelter; she'd never bought property or a house in this time period so she was a bit wary about it all. Then she'd have to hire people to keep up the lie of being a rich widow. Just the thought of it all turned her stomach a little. Not to mention the fact of how a widow with money would make men in need of money flock to her like ants to honey.

She looked up from her plate at the ceiling and grunted in frustration, "Why am I too stupid to die right?"

She let her head gently lay on the table beside her plate. She took in a deep sigh and examined her empty plate with a sardonic smile, "I suppose...I suppose that I have to keep going? Don't I?" These were the sort of questions that plagued her when she stopped to think for too long.

Shaking her head she gently put the cutlery down and made her way to her steamer trunks, "I best do this before that nice girl comes back in and tries to dress me."

She snorted, "I don't like it, but it's sink or swim time. You can do this girl."

After that pep talk she nodded to herself and cracked her back and loosened her arms before she snapped her fingers several times. All the clothes that she had shoved into her one steamer trunk flew up into the air and swirled around her before twisting and turning as they all changed into many gowns, coats, cloaks, tights, undergarments, hats, and etc. that she would need to don in this life. She made certain that every dress and coat she had, had hidden pockets in them, along with space enough for her dagger. The leather jacket that she had twisted and twisted till it separated into several leather slippers and boots. Cecilia inwardly sighed. She'd miss that jacket. With everything sufficiently changed, she waved her hand down in a quick motion which forced the dancing clothes into folding themselves before gently packing themselves away.

Picking out a gown, undergarments, a cloak, a hat, and gloves, Cecilia laid it out all on her bed and straightened her back. She looked around the room and sighed, "I really wish this place had plumbing. I really would like a shower instead of just a bath. Definitely miss that aspect from life 39." She shook her head to rid herself of those dreary thoughts.

It was good that she had accomplished all that she had after eating because just as she was about to conjure up a small chest of gold guineas, Sally knocked on the door to her room.

Opening her door after the second knock, Cecilia smiled up at the young girl, "Hello, Sally."

Sally beamed up at her and handed her a newspaper, "Hello, ma'am. Here's the newspaper."

She curtsied a little and saw the clothes that were laid on the bed, "Did you need help dressing, madam?"

Cecilia noted the enthusiastic little smile that adorned Sally's face, and nodded, "Please do."

She fingered the newspaper and scanned it as fast as she could while Sally rushed around her room like a little smiling tornado. She definitely wasn't delusional. The newspaper clearly stated that it was the year 1810 January 1st. Well. This was going to be an interesting cycle...to say the very least. She snorted inwardly.

She slipped her night gown off and sighed. Nudity didn't really shame her anymore, not like in her earlier cycles, so this wasn't something that she felt embarrassed about. Sally's bright face interrupted her thoughts as she helped her get dressed. It took about 30 minutes, and the outcome was just as uncomfortable as she had assumed it would be. She was just grateful that all the clothes that she had transfigured were as soft as she had wanted them to be.

Sally looked at her with a sad smile that was tinged with pride and envy, "All done, madam."

Cecilia smiled at her and leaked some warmth into her eyes, "Thank you, sweet girl."

She did her best to try and glide over to where she'd hidden her pouch full of guineas and crowns. Plucking out 1 silver crown she made her way back to a now gaping Sally.

Sally mutely shook her hands and her head repeatedly, "T'was my pleasure to help you, madam. Really."

Cecilia shook her head and gently grasped one of Sally's waving hands, and folded the coin into her palm, "And it is mine to give you this. I appreciate your help and that you did what I asked without question even though even I knew it was odd."

Sally flushed a bright red that seemed to go down past her dress, "Thank you, ma'am." With that she curtsied quickly and hurried out of the room clutching the coin to her chest as though it would disappear if she didn't.

Cecilia let a bemused smile trickle onto her face as she shook her head, "It costs nothing to be kind."

Closing the door with a click, she strapped her dagger onto her arm, wrapped her coin purse under her dress and settled down onto the edge of her bed. She concentrated as much as she could, sweat trickled down her brow, as a medium sized chest materialized onto her lap. It was always harder, and much more energy consuming to conjure something rather than just transfiguring something to suit her whims.

She slipped a guinea from her pouch and held it above the open chest. Cecilia let it warm in her hand till it felt too hot to hold before letting it drop into the chest along with many others that seemed to pour out from her hand. She waited till the chest was completely full before snatching her hand away with a grimace. She let herself flop back against her bed, careful not to ruin the way Sally had turned her hair into a rose like swirl. Taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart she waited a couple minutes before deciding to not waste the day away in her room. She hid the chest amongst her clothes in one steamer trunk and made sure to lock both before she decisively pulled on a dark blue cloak that gently contrasted with her dark green gown, and clipped on her silver pocket watch.

She peered through her window at the sunlight that steadily streamed through, "Best not waste the light."

With that thought in mind, she made her way downstairs to find some people to hire before she would journey towards the bank. She'd make this cycle better than the last, she silently vowed to herself.

* * *

After she had descended from the stairs she made her way up to the bar counter where she had spotted Eunice wiping everything down, "Good morning, Mrs. Hobborlain."

She looked up from wiping and cleaning everything with a rag that looked as grey as field mice, "Hello, Mrs. Price. What ken I do for yah?"

Cecilia bit her lower lip, "I am in need of servants and find myself bereft of how to find them here."

Eunice's eyes lit up at that and her mouth seemed to twitch into a genial smile, "I ken help yah there, ma'am. There are three ways that yah ken get a servant around these places. Word o' mouth, references, and the servant registry deeper in London."

Cecilia frowned, "I am not too fond of going further into London than necessary, but I do have to head to the bank today. It is not safe holding this much all at once. I would prefer to have some servants and a coachman to help me to unload what I have into a bank."

Eunice smiled at the mention of money, "Well I do know some good folks that could help you. There's my sister's lass, Maggie Gardiner, a good lass and she's runnin' round here right now with Sally helping clean up after our tenants that decided to eat here in the dining hall. Good head on her shoulders, she has. She is also a good worker and knows discretion when yah need it. A good solid girl at 16. There's also Mrs. Maynard's youngest boy. He's not as young as Maggie, at 18, but he keeps stopping by and asking if we need another stable hand. Heard from Mrs. Maynard that he's a dedicated and loyal young man, and quite strong. He can apparently whisper to horses. Good boy, that Fred. There are other lads and lasses, but I don't know them or their mother's too well. Oh! As for coachmen, Wendell Gill's is a bit older than most coachmen, but his previous master died recently and now he's without work. Man has a wife and two sweet children, a lad and a lass that need the income. He's been coming around every day lookin' for work and I know he'd be right grateful for yah."

Cecilia bit her inner cheek while she measured the pros and cons about the people that Eunice mentioned. She had to take a chance on these people. Even if her gut said to just run off and live as a hermit in the woods. She shook that thought away and forced a small smile onto her face, "The people that you mentioned sound lovely. Are they all here right now?"

Eunice stopped wiping down the bar and put a finger on her lip, "At this hour they probably are sitting down around here somewhere, and Maggie is off right there with Sally."

Cecilia nodded, "Thank you for this, Mrs. Hobborlain." With that she slipped her a silver crown onto the counter and made her way towards the two tittering girls that were wiping and cleaning a recently vacated table. She never did see the soft and genuinely warm look that Eunice had given her after slipping the coin into her apron pocket.

Upon stopping before the two girls, Sally shot her a bright grin, and Maggie's face morphed into quiet curiosity, "Hello, Sally. Hello, Maggie. Your mother told me that, Maggie here, would like some work as a lady's maid and I am in need of one presently."

An earnest smile streaked across Maggie's face, "Oh yes, ma'am! I would very much like to work for you."

Cecilia inwardly sighed in relief before waving to a the seats before her, "Alright. I would like to talk about the particulars before we find the rest of my new entourage."

Maggie looked a little confused, but sat down while Sally hurried away with a delighted smile painted on her face, "Alright, miss."

"Well, you will have to help me move into my new home and all the other things that a lady's maid might do. If you'd like, I could teach you how to read and do numbers, if you cannot. You will get a day of leave every week to do as you wish once I am settled into my new home. I will provide you four dresses and two new aprons along with some new shoes for this position. The pay will be 20 pounds a year. Does that all sound alright?" Cecilia tilted her head and stared at the dark haired girl that seemed to be fidgeting in her seat.

A bright grin overtook her face, "That sounds so lovely, ma'am. I'd be happy to be in service of you. I just have to get my things and tell me ma." She seemed to bounce away after Cecilia had motioned that she could go.

A wry grin pulled on Cecilia's lips, "So much energy that one. Alright, now for the other two."

She spotted a despondent redheaded young man slumped in a seat at a nearby table. "I bet that that's him," she murmured under her breath.

She strode towards the young man, pulled out a chair, and took a seat at his table. Clearing her throat she managed to get him to lift his head and look at her, "Eh hem. Hello. How do you do? Might you be Fred Maynard?"

Fred's pale face flushed before a shy smile bloomed on his face, "That's right, ma'am. My name is Fred Maynard. Who might you be?"

"I am Mrs. Price and I heard that you were looking for a position as a stable master. I am in need of one along with some aid in moving into my new home," she tilted her head and studied the elated relieved look that overcame his face.

"Yes, ma'am. I'd love to work for you as a stable master! I just have'ta tell my mum and get my things before I go off with yah," he looked ready to bolt out of the room and rush back in a second, but before he could go, she held up her hand.

"Before you go, would you not like to know the particulars of this position?"

Fred tilted his head in cute confusion, "Well, I suppose so, ma'am, but you seem like the right decent sort not to take advantage of people so whatever you have in mind would be fine by me."

With a snort and a chuckle behind her hand, Cecilia shrugged, "Alright. I'll just tell you on the way then. Off you go. Be back quick as a lick then, if you would."

"Will do, ma'am," Fred bolted out of the inn with a happy skip to his step while Cecilia scanned the nearly empty dining hall for a man that seemed like a coachman. There really was just two people left. A portly woman with light brown locks that seemed to be trying to escape out of her bonnet. A worried frown married her face as she stared down at a piece of paper in her hands. The other was a man who looked like he was in his early 30s with thick dark black hair and tanned skin. He was nursing an ale and seemed to be staring despondently at it.

She did her best to glide towards him before taking a seat across from him, "Hello. Would you perhaps be a mister Wendell Gill?"

He looked up from his drink, a sad look still etched on his face, "Right you are miss. That would me. What can I do for yah?"

A sympathetic smile adorned her face, "Well, would you like a job as my coachman? Mine unfortunately died along the way here across the ocean and I find that I am in need of a new one."

His dull grey eyes seemed to spark back to life, "I would. I would so very much like that, miss."

"I am Mrs. Price, and I would need you to start today. I shall even pay you a week in advance if you would like, would that be alright?"

He let out a loud laugh, "Ma'am, beggin' your pardon, but that would be the best thing that's happened to me since my old master died."

She nodded and slid 4 guiena's across the table, "That would be 40 pounds a year so this'll be for just the week."

Wendell's eyes watered as a small smile tugged at his crooked lips, "Thank you, ma'am. Do know, that I am right grateful..."

"I am happy that we can both benefit, Mr. Gill," she tilted her head cordially, but before she could get up and leave Wendell held up his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Gill?"

"Ma'am. I know this is just my first day workin' for you, but would you be minding much if I brought my family over with me as well? My wife is a strong woman, my Clara, and she's the best cook in all our village. My young lass and lad are of age to do work too. Though they are just 14, they're both strong and clever," Wendell seemed to wring his hands together, a sort of desperate look in his eyes. Cecilia supposed that he had to leave his family behind in his village for his last master, before inwardly sighing.

She cursed her soft heart before nodding, "Alright. I shall send a coach for them once I've purchased my new home. Please get the stage coach and my dark steamer trunk ready please. Mrs. Hobborlain can show you where my room is."

"Alright ma'am," Wendell gave her a respectful bow of his head before he strode out of the inn with purposeful strides.

Cecilia had the strongest urge to crack her back. She wasn't used to sitting up with such a strictly straight posture, but she refrained before she quietly made her way to the last patron that seemed to be lost in her sheet of paper. She silently slid into a chair in front of the worrying woman and made herself comfortable.

The woman in front of her seemed to feel her presence as she glanced up from her paper as a flush of embarrassment covered her face, "Good morning, madam."

"Good morning, miss. I am Mrs. Cecilia Price and I am in need of workers for my new home. Would you happen to know anyone that might need the work?" she knew that she was taking a risk here, but this woman just seemed to exude a gentle mothering nature that she inwardly craved. Her knife seemed to be heavy against her arm when she thought of this. If anything went wrong with any person she employed, she knew she had a very permanent solution for it.

The frown that seemed to age her, faded from her face as a cautious smile replaced it, "Madam Price, I'm Mrs. Dorathea Lynch. I used to be the housekeeper of Netherfield Manor, but the Lord, Lady, and the young master of the house all died because of small pox. Those of us left that came unscathed from the small pox that spread from them, my God rest their souls, are similarly out of work and I have to ride back to our village to tell them that their day of leave has turned into unemployment. My husband and boys will be devastated that we've all been turned out into the poor house. My husband was the Butler, and my two boys were servants there as well," at the end of her explanation tears seemed to threaten to fall from her light blue eyes.

She dabbed her eyes, "I'm sorry, ma'am. It's just been a rather trying day for me today, but I myself, my family and the others that survived Netherfield Manor's small pox are in desperate need of work."

Cecilia felt that this woman was genuine in her grief and her desperation, but not so much so that she would murder her for whatever reason. Deciding on taking another chance on a stranger, Cecilia reached for the other woman's gloved hand, "I am in need of an entire household minus, a lady's maid, a cook, a stable master, and a coachman because I have found my own. So, what say you Mrs. Lynch?"

Dorathea seemed to be so overcome with emotion because she suddenly bolted up from her chair and embraced a rather stunned Cecilia. She froze for a second before gently patting the overwrought woman's back as she felt her sob for a little bit. She hummed before gently murmuring, "There there, Mrs. Lynch. All will be well now."

She detached from a still slightly startled Cecilia, "I'm beggin' your pardon, Madam Price. This just seems like an answer to my prayers. I already have to break the news of some of the household staff dying, but the news that the survivors also have no more work as well..."

She sadly shook her head, "I'm sorry again, ma'am."

Cecilia shook her head, "It is quite understandable to grieve, Mrs. Lynch. On a different note, I would like all of you to start as soon as possible because I am planning on purchasing my new home today. I would like you all to maintain the positions that you already have excluding the position of the lady's maid, valet, and the coachman. As I have previously stated, I already have a coachman, a cook, and a Lady's maid. My husband died during the journey over the ocean because of Cholera so I don't currently need a valet either."

Dorathea's hands grasped her own in a gentle grip, "I'm so sorry for your loss, madam. I don't know how I could cope without my dear Edgar. Tis not a problem really though. The Valet, Lady's maid, the cook, the stable master, and the coachman along with some of the gardeners perished along with our previous master..." Dorathea seemed to be lost in the past for a moment before she shook herself.

A sheepish smile graced her world wary place, "I'm sorry again, ma'am."

Cecilia patted her hand, "Like I had mentioned before, Mrs. Lynch. It is quite alright. Would you like me to ask the inn keeper to ring a carriage for you? I shall be back at this inn after I have sorted out my new home and I would like to be secure in the knowledge that I do in deed have a full household to help me keep a good house. I would also like to speak with you about the wages and the like of this position and the other positions in my household."

Dorathea nodded, "Yes, please, Madam Price. My village is but four hours away and I shall inform the others that we are not long for the poor house, but have instead found good fortune."

A slight smile plucked the edges of her mouth up, "Thank you, you dear angel."

Cecilia felt herself flush for the first time since arriving here, "It really is no bother. I have to be off now though. It was lovely meeting you, Mrs. Lynch."

"It was an absolute pleasure, Madam Price," Dorathea happily stated, her worry lines all but gone off of her face.

Before she headed out of the inn, she made sure to ask Eunice to ring for a coach for her new housekeeper and that she could take out the fee from her initial payment for her lodging. It was time to go to the bank and Cecilia prayed that it would go as smoothly as finding everyone that she needed for her household.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Cecilia patted the leather steamer trunk that held the wooden chest full of guienas. It had a considerable weight and she was fairly sure that it contained about around 50, 000 pounds give or take. She'd figure out how much it was worth when she was in the privacy of a bank manager's office. The air felt cool, but smelt horrible, and Cecilia had to hold in her breakfast. It was hard to ignore, but she hoped that she would become nose blind sooner than later. The stench was unbearable.

It took half an hour of riding in her stagecoach to reach the Bank of England. Wendell parked the stagecoach amongst the others that were waiting on the side lines for their owners as well. He opened the door and helped Cecilia out, and hefted out the now fairly heavy chest that she had brought out. They hurried into the enormous white bricked building with its white elegant columns and the iron statue of a man riding a horse in front of the building. She wanted to pause for a moment and study how much newer it looked currently in comparison to the 21st century, but there was little time and far too many people to really gawk at anything.

The inner atmosphere of the bank was formal and beautiful all at once. It had lovely black marble floors, tall white walls with lovely artistic detail and enormous windows that bathed the entire bank in warm sunlight.

As the queue finally trickled down, it was finally Cecilia's turn at the till. She smiled at the bank teller and waved over Wendell. He hefted the chest and placed it down on the till. The bank teller openly gawked while Cecilia's smile turned sharp, "Hello, good sir. I am Mrs. Cecilia Price. A recent colonial widow. I would like to open up a bank account for my new fortune and to purchase a home as soon as possible. Money, as you can see, is not a problem."

The bank teller blinked repeatedly and gaped before taking in a deep breath and exhaling quickly, "Yes ma'am. I'll be right back. I just have to bring over the bank manager. One moment please."

Wendell chuckled, "I always wanted to see them rush around like that. Usually they're so smug and slow, ma'am."

Cecilia shot him a small smile, "I too, enjoyed his reaction."

The bank teller returned in under five minutes with a severe looking man with graying hair behind him. They quickly and quietly shepherded Cecilia and Wendell into a side office nearby. The bank teller helped Wendell place down the heavy chest onto a large dark mahogany desk. The bank teller then scurried out of the office without paying any heed to either Wendell or Cecilia. Wendell cast a nervous glance towards his new employer and gulped before taking his cap off.

The severe looking man gently took one of Cecilia's gloved hands and pressed her knuckles against his lips with a short bow before straitening up and murmuring, "Good Madam Price. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Bank Manager Ford Fallow."

Cecilia nodded her head curtly and slowly took her hand back, "It is lovely to meet you as well, Bank Manager Fallow. Could my coachman take a seat along with me?"

Ford cast a snotty glance at Wendell and waved his hand towards the chairs further away from the desk along the office wall, "Take a seat good man, while your Mistress and I sort out her banking needs."

Wendell stiffly took a seat nearby and shot the bank manager a cold look before nodding curtly back toward the man.

Cecilia shot the bank manager a frosty look before primly sitting down onto one of the leather chairs, "First and foremost, I would like to calculate what my fortune is worth around here. I had counted it all with my husband before he had passed and I do want to make sure the transition from the colonies to here has no baring on the currency. After that, I would like to open an account under my name and to buy a property."

Mr. Fallow's brow furrowed as he thought through what had to do in order to please this apparently very wealthy widow, "We can certainly do that Mrs. Price." And with that things proceeded without any fuss or any problems, although Cecilia still felt on edge. Especially with the way that Mr. Fallow seemed to roam his eyes over her form.

It turned out that Cecilia was wrong and the chest that she had filled with guineas wasn't just the 50,000 pounds that she had guessed, but rather 100,000 pounds, which meant that she was pretty much set for life in this era. After finding out that tidbit, she felt a certain amount of relief that poverty wouldn't be one way that she would die this time. Mr. Fallow was far more respectful after finding that out and showed her the calculations on what her yearly income would be from the interest of her fortune. It would be a total of 4,000 pounds annually and it reassured her that she, along with her household, would want for nothing monetarily. Socially she was aware she was nouveau rich and wouldn't be accepted by the snobs of society, but she didn't mind it.

Her account at the bank was quickly set up without a fuss and she was instructed as to how to use the bank notes that they would provide her with in order to directly use her fortune without having to go back and forth from the bank.

Buying the property wasn't as tricky as she thought it would be because of the coveture legal doctrine which stated that because she was now a feme sole, an unmarried woman essentially, because of the death of her husband she had the right to own property and make contracts in her own name. With that in mind, she looked over the properties that were available to her.

Upon scanning the paper, she noted that a Longburn house was for a possible sale. It stated that the land was up for grabs after a certain Mr. Bennet passed; it noted that he didn't have any direct male heirs. She pressed her finger up against that property's name, "The Bennet's?"

Mr. Fallow paused in how he was neatly stacking the pile of guineas back into the chest, "Yes, ma'am. Their land will be for sale in the near future as Mr. Collins is more interested in the monetary gain from the sale rather than retaining the aforementioned land. At the current time though, the Bennet's house and land is not yet for sale."

She inwardly cursed when she finally recalled why that tall dark and handsome man's face made her brain ping. It was along with the fact that the Bennets were real, that she slowly considered the possibility that she was in an Jane Austen novel. Deciding to deal with those ramifications later, she nodded, "I'd like to purchase this property called Brinsop Court Manor house then. It is right by the Longburn house and in the Meyrton area."

A shark like grin overcame Mr. Fallow's face, "Very good choice, Madam Price. The prior owners of that place were of gentry that fell into hard times because they were unable to sire any heirs and had to sell off their property. Once the Lord and Lady of the house were consumed by Cholera it became available since they were the last of their line. I've been informed that the disease does not linger there any longer. It is a sumptuous 4,500 pounds to buy it outright."

Cecilia nodded, "Alright. Please take that from my account to pay for the property."

He nodded and started making another pile that was outside of the chest, "The property deed and the particulars that you need to read and sign, Madam." He took out a stack of intimidating forms that he slid towards her before he went back to happily counting the coins.

She carefully read through the entire contract before signing several pages worth of legalese that basically proclaimed that she was now the proud owner of the property and any leases that it may have from here on forward. Cecilia glanced over at a snoozing Wendell. He looked quite peaceful sleeping upright in his seat. Poor man did not enjoy any of this.

She cracked her back minutely before sliding back the papers minus the deed towards Mr. Fallow, "Here you are, Mr. Fallow."

He paused in his previous activity before handing her a second copy of the deed to the land which was a bit different than the first paper, "And here you are, Madam Price. Do you have any questions as to the property that you now own?"

Cecilia nodded, "Yes. Yes, I do. What can you tell me about it, what are particulars about this property, and where is it exactly?"

Mr. Fallow finished up putting the last pile of guineas in the chest and double checking that the pile for the property was upright, "Well, it's nestled in the rolling country side with 200 acres of land including a lovely forest and lake. It has wonderful features and is encircled by a moat. It's about 5 miles North west of Hereford and to the west lies the Welsh Borderland and Marches. You can get to it from here in London by carriage in about 4 to 5 hours depending on the weather. Birmingham is just two hours away from it and it is very close to the town Meyrton, with only a 30 minute carriage ride away. From what I'm aware of, the main house has 14 bedrooms, 8 bathrooms, a library, a great hall, a dining room, a large kitchen, a pantry, a large root cellar, a servants quarters, and etcetera. It has several servants houses nearby, a large barn, a large stable, an orchard, a vegetable garden, and etcetera. A stunning banquet Hall and a hidden courtyard are also on the property. It's English country manor house, filled with large fireplaces, ornate ceilings, wooden panelling and lovely features. Not much else is said on the documentation on the sale of the property, I'm sorry, Madam Price."

Cecilia waved his apology off, "It is quite alright, Mr. Fallows. What you have just told me has given me a very good picture of it already. Is the the property properly furnished?"

Mr. Fallow hummed before closing the chest and looking through some papers before looking up and giving her a genial look, "It looks like you're in a bit of luck. Due to their dire circumstance, some of the manor house is indeed furnished. All of our paper work is now completed, Mrs. Price. Let me just get you the keys to your new home and I believe that we will be all done soon."

Cecilia nodded, "Thank you, Mr. Fallows."

"Think none of it, Mrs. Price. It was certainly a pleasure," with that Mr. Fallow popped out of the office to retrieve the aforementioned keys.

Cecilia stood up from her seat and stretched, accidentally cracking her back in the process. With a relieved sigh, she swiftly made her way to Wendell and prodded his shoulder till he groggily woke up.

He gave her a sheepish smile, "Sorry ma'am. This talk is right boring. Might we be done?"

Cecilia nodded, "Indeed we are. I am just awaiting Mr. Fallow's swift return so I can acquire the keys to my new home."

With a happy sigh Wendell nodded and slowly got up. She looked away from him to try and hide her amused smile. He was certainly full of personality, she quietly thought to herself.

Mr. Fallow returned with a large ring of jangling keys that he happily handed over. He gently took her gloved hand and kissed her knuckles again, "It was pleasure to do business with you, Mrs. Price. If you ever need anything, please just mention my name to any of the bank tellers."

A minuscule smile tilted her lips, "I will, thank you Mr. Fallow." With that, her business at the bank was finally at an end.

* * *

The rest of the day proceeded with a sense of ease that Cecilia hadn't felt in a very long while, even if she were somehow reincarnated into a Jane Austen novel. At this point in her existence, Cecilia knew that anything could happen. Once she and Wendell were back at the inn, he helped put her steamer trunk back into her room. She knew that she still had much to do, but already she felt drained and fell into a nap.

Much later in the afternoon, after she had awakened from her nap, she found a mob of people down in the dining hall with a frantic Eunice serving everyone along with the rest of her immediate family. She quietly asked around and found that these people, all 30 of them, apparently worked for her. With that knowledge Cecilia did her best to contain the chaos that she had accidentally brought to the inn.

Inwardly she was both nervous, happy, and warmed by the thought that she'd have all these people around her looking after her in one way or another. She'd never felt that in any life cycle as of yet, and was eager to relish it.

It took a couple hours, but she met and introduced herself to her entire household and gave them all varying instructions as to where to go and what to do. A crew of them were to go ahead of half the other household in order to clean and spruce up the manor house before they got there, after Cecilia went to check out the location first. She also wanted to add her magic touch to everything and figured that it would be easier to do so without too many people poking their noses into it. The other half would go into town with her to buy up anything and everything else that they might need since London had a bigger selection and variety, along with the larger general store that the smaller towns lacked. She found that some of them had also brought their families along with them, and her big soft heart ached. She said that they too could live on her land as long as those that could, would pull their weight. And that was how she had inadvertently hired 40 instead of the initial 30 people into her household. It was also how she ended up with tenants wanting to move onto her land to be closer to their families.

Her day ended with her entire household eating in the dining hall with her, her money pouch slightly lighter, and a happy smile curling onto her face before she fell into a deep dreamless slumber. Tomorrow would be the start of a brand new life backed with the security she always craved, and it felt wonderful.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

A gentle knock roused her from her deep slumber, making her roll onto her back and blink against the warm streaming sunlight that bathed her face. She turned her head towards the door and gently called out, "Come in."

Maggie quietly came into the room with a tray laden with breakfast foods before she gave her new Mistress a cheeky smile, "Rise and shine, Madam. You asked me to remind you that the day awaits no one."

Cecilia inwardly cursed her past self for that before scratching her head and nodding, "Thank you, Maggie."

"Shall I pick something out for you, ma'am?" Maggie set the tray down onto the nearby table and bounced on the heels of her feet, an excited smile adorned her face making her glow in the morning light.

Cecilia stretched out and got out of bed with as much grace as she could muster before going over to the table towards the delectable breakfast, "Certainly. Go ahead. I have left the clothing trunk open so peruse to your hearts content, Maggie."

With a delighted squeal that she barely managed to conceal, Maggie dove right into her job as her lady's maid. The girl certainly did love clothes. Cecilia inwardly chuckled at the thought of how she would react when she picked out her own set of clothes today as her lady's maid. She was determined to give a better life to her new employees. With the amount of money she had, it really did cost her nothing to make sure that they worked in relative comfort in comparison to those around them.

She slowly ate her fried eggs on her toast as she watched Maggie rummage through her clothing trunk with a gentle hand. She fought to keep the amusement off of her face, but a smile managed to break out across her face.

Maggie made her final choice for what her new Mistress would wear today should society actually take note of the nouveau riche widow. She presented Cecilia with a soft silk pale blue day dress with lace that edged the hem of the dress, the sleeves, and the jacket that went along with it. Cecilia finished off her breakfast and drank the last bit of her tea before giving Maggie a small smile.

"That is a lovely choice, Maggie," she murmured as she stripped out of her night dress. It still felt a little weird going commando at bedtime, but she couldn't exactly go with what she was comfortable with.

Maggie beamed at her and helped her put on the many layers that made up the day dress. After what felt like eternity, Maggie had Cecilia sit down on the vanity chair in her room while she did her hair. With her dexterous hands, Maggie formed a crown of braids that pulled her hair out of her face and gathered into a neat loose bun on the back of her neck. She looked back at Maggie as she fingered the loose curls that escaped her braid near her temple. It looked good and certainly led credence that she did indeed at least look like she belonged in this century.

"Thank you, Maggie. Have you eaten?" Cecilia raised a brow at the gurgles she heard from behind her.

Maggie shot her an embarrassed smile, "Not yet, ma'am. I was a bit too excited and hadn't thought to eat anything as of yet."

Cecilia nodded, "Alright. Well, go off then and break your fast. I have some things to deal with before we depart towards our new home in the mean time."

Maggie nodded before curtsying, taking the empty breakfast tray and departing from the room as fast as she could while still maintaining a modicum of grace. She did forget to put the tea pot, and sugar bowl back onto the tray when she left though. It was a bit careless, but Cecilia didn't mind. She could bring it down herself later, or remind Maggie if it was inappropriate for her to bring it down.

Once Maggie was out of the room, Cecilia let the giggles that were threatening to pour out of her bubble out of her mouth. She took in a deep breath and smiled, "I like her. She's been good at helping so far, and she hasn't poisoned me." She slipped her sheathed dagger under one sleeve, tied on her money pouch, and slipped on her gloves. The sun was shining and it would probably be just as cool outside as it was yesterday. She wondered idly if a nice breeze might blow her stupid hat away. Cecilia hated hats, but it would be considered wrong if she didn't wear one. At least that's what she could tell from the people around her.

Feeling more securing now that she had both her dagger, and her hidden coin purse, she picked up several sugar cubes and clutched them firmly in her hand. She waited till it seemed like she was holding melting sugar before she shook her hand several times. The heat dissipated and revealed several dex tabs that she knew she would need. With the amount of magic she planned on doing today, she would need the jolt of sugar. Cecilia figured she would be safe with 10 dex tabs in her possession.

Cecilia slipped the dex tabs into her dress pocket and made sure her hat was on straight. She quietly consoled herself, "At least hats look good with this face."

Before she could do anything else, a haggard looking Maggie burst into her room, a bread roll dangling from her mouth. She took it out as a rushed apology burst out of her, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I forgot the tea pot and sugar bowl."

Maggie rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. She shoved the bread roll into her apron pocket whilst also grabbing both the tea pot and sugar bowl off the nearby table.

Cecilia shot her a small smile, "It is quite alright. I am going to go see if Mr. Gill is here so we can ready the stage coach."

Cecilia did her best to glide beside Maggie as they locked up and left her room. They parted ways at the bottom of the stairs with warm smiles.

It didn't take long for Cecilia to find her new coachman. He did overwhelmingly look different when she compared him to how he was when she first met him though. He and his wife were happily chatting away, their children contentedly eating at bowls of, what she assumed was, porridge. It was a nice scene. The stress lines that had aged him seemed to vanish when he was around his family. It was also a scene that squeezed her heart. Would she ever find something like that? She'd always wanted a family of her own, but she'd never lived long enough to have something like that in each cycle.

Cecilia shook away her slight envy and sadness like a dog shaking off water. It didn't matter. This cycle would be different. She vowed to herself that she wouldn't quit until it was. She did her best to affix a smile onto her face as she approached the Gill family, "Good morning, Mr. Gill."

Wendell stopped laughing at the apparent joke his wife had made and sent Cecilia a warm grin, "Oh! Good morning, madam! A good morning indeed. Thank you for hiring me and allowing my family to live and work for you too. It's a right pleasure. My last master, as kind as he was, would never have been this generous."

"Wendell," his wife gave him a light jab to the ribs and sent him an expectant look. She looked rather like a warm person with her curly auburn hair tucked away into a neat low bun.

"Oh! Right. Madam, this lovely creature is my wondrous wife Clara," he beamed and gestured at his wife, pride, love and devotion clearly written on his face and shining in his eyes. Cecilia wistfully sighed inwardly. She wanted someone to look at her like that. She had dalliances in her past lives and loves that had been close, but she'd always died too soon for anything like a solid commitment to happen.

Clara stood up and curtsied, "It's a pleasure to be your cook, madam."

"It is a pleasure to have you on board, Mrs. Gill. How do you do?" Cecilia inclined her head and sent a genial smile to Wendell's wife. They seemed like good people so far she noted.

She beamed at her, "I'm well, thank you." A faint blush dusted her rosy complexion before Clara seemed to wrangle it down. She gently sat back down in her chair, but not before Cecilia caught sight of her gripping her brown apron now and again. She wasn't intimidated by her was she? Cecilia didn't consider herself all that intimidating, and she wasn't even that tall in this new body either. Nah. She was probably just imagining things. Right?

She shrugged away those thoughts and motioned to the kids at their table, "And these lovely children?"

Wendell proudly grinned and gesticulated happily, "Well, madam. My lass over there is Ruthie, and my lad is Donnie. They're Irish twins. Only eleven months apart. My wife is too lovely for me not to cuddle."

An embarrassed expression crossed over Clara's face, but it couldn't hide the fondness that shone through for her husband, "Wendell, really. Not in front of the madam."

"That is fine. On a different note, Mr. Gill our day is to begin. Have you the coach ready? We really must be off if everyone is to move in post haste," Cecilia did her best to wave away any awkwardness that could've invaded the air between them all. She liked them enough, but didn't really need to ever know the nitty gritty of their bedroom life. Ever. Thank you very much.

Wendell sheepishly smiled and scratched at the side of his face, "Ah, right madam. The coach is ready outside with the footman from Mrs. Lynch's old household. His name's Benjamin Mills. He seemed like a nice bloke."

Cecilia nodded and motioned towards the door, "That is good to know, Mr. Gill. We must be off now. It was lovely to meet you all, and I am happy that you've all joined my household. We shall see you all again soon."

Ruthie, who she had almost forgotten about, chirped out, "Thank you again for hiring us, Mrs. Price." She really was as cute as a button. Large blue eyes like her mother, but with long dark locks like her father.

Not one to be beaten, Donnie jumped in as well, "Yes, thank you ma'am!" He had the same coloring and features of his sister. They were sort neat to look at when she compared the two children side by side. It was like looking at a gender bent mirror.

Cecilia smiled and nodded at them. The two kids bowed and curtsied at her, and made her want to inwardly laugh out loud. Long and unladylike laughter threatened to bubble out of her. She did her best to restrain herself, but a cheery grin managed to slip out onto her face before she turned away. It was too hard to try to be a stoic widow sometimes. She knew that she had to at least try to be that way for a certain period. It would look too suspicious otherwise.

She and Wendell went out of the inn and found that Benjamin had managed to load up the entire carriage during their conversation. So far, he was making a lovely impression on Cecilia. It also helped that he looked handsome from behind. Tall, dark and handsome. It seemed as though she had a type. She tilted her head and cleared her throat, making Benjamin tense for a moment before turning, "Hello. Mayhaps you might be my footman?"

Benjamin swiftly turned around as a self-conscious grin tugged at his lips, "Good- Good morning, madam Price. It's lovely to formally meet you. Much lovelier out here in the sunlight than inside. I mean you are. I mean...ahhh..." He scratched his head and looked away for a moment.

It wasn't attraction, Cecilia noted. It felt more like he was just embarrassed that he wasn't quite as put together as he could've wanted to be. At least, that's how Cecilia wanted to interpret all this. And he was certainly good looking; defined jaw, tall, bright blue eyes, brown hair. She didn't want to jump his bones or marry him, and for that she was oddly relieved for some reason. She didn't want to think about why though.

"It is alright. It is lovely to meet you too, Mr. Mills," Cecilia nodded, a tiny smile perched on her face.

"Yes, right. I've load the carriage, and were ready to go. All we need now is-" he nodded and gestured towards the inn door before he was soundly interrupted.

"Mistress, I'm ready too," Maggie bounded out of the inn with a small basket tucked away under her arm.

Cecilia tilted her head to the side and gave her a genial expression, "Have a good breakfast, Maggie?"

Maggie nodded and showed off her little basket, "Yes, ma'am. I also brought over some sweet custard tarts that Mrs. Lynch made for our journey."

A genuinely pleased look crossed Cecilia's face as she took in that information, "She is frightfully sweet, that one. I shall give her my thanks once we see her again. All right. Let us be off then, shall we?"

With that they all loaded into her carriage and rode off towards Cecilia's new home.

* * *

The journey to her new home let her think more than she'd like. Benjamin and Wendell got a long like a house on fire. Way too well. It was nice to see such camaraderie between the two men, but on the other hand it made Cecilia feel a little melancholic. She glanced to the seat beside her and found that Maggie was bouncing in her seat, staring at the scenery that they passed by. The rolling hills, vibrant blue sky, and pleasant country air was lovely. She wouldn't ever really get tired of it all, but this long stretch of traveling really left her with far too much time to think.

She recalled how the bank manager had mentioned how it would take her 4 to 5 hours by carriage to get to her new home. Inwardly rolling her eyes at that notion, she sighed. It would be so much easier if she could teleport. She hadn't yet tried to see if that would work, but still missed the option of instantaneous travel. She hummed a random tune under her breath and let her brain churn and churn.

During the ride, they ate up the sweet custard tarts, saving the last two for Wendell and Benjamin respectively. She noted that it was nice riding in a carriage with others than her initial journey into London alone. Still though. She sighed inwardly. She didn't quite enjoy long riding journeys. She had always been this way in every life cycle though. Perhaps it was just a quirk that would always follow her.

Deciding not to waste too much time doing absolutely nothing, she mentally tallied up a to do list. First she'd have to make sure all the plumbing wasn't lead lined in the house. Then she'd have to make sure that all the plumbing for indoor showers, toilets, and the like worked properly. She did hope that the place had gas stoves, but Cecilia would settle for the wood burning kind as well. Besides that, she didn't worry too much since electricity wasn't exactly that far reaching out in the country side yet. It would've been impractical to hope for that kind of thing.

"Madam, the horses need a break. There seems to be a pond near by, may we stop?"

"Certainly, Mr. Gill. Everyone needs a break now and again. As do horses, we can all take a break. Have some water, relieve ourselves, and the like."

"That sounds lovely, mistress."

"It does, doesn't it, Maggie."

"I brought the glass bottles from your room, madam Price. I could refill them when we reach the pond if you'd like?"

"That would be nice, thank you Benjamin."

Mind you, this wasn't nice at all. The first thought that entered Cecilia's mind when her footman suggested that was that contaminated water could cause diarrhea that could kill you in this era. She mentally added filtration systems for all the fresh water onto her to do list. She'd let them take the risk with her glass bottles and the pond water, but she wouldn't dare drink from it herself. She didn't want to die from dysentery thanks very much.

They stopped by a nearby pond where the horses could rest for a bit and drink their fill. It was a cool day, but working under the bright sun made the horses sweat. It was the same for the passengers of the carriage. She mentally noted that she'd have to carve some runes into her home to act as central heating and cooling to a certain degree. She should've done that with the carriage, but that could be solved later on once they got to their destination. She figured that they'd be too relived to ask too many questions if their comfort level increased then rather than out of the blue now.

Whilst Maggie, Wendell, and Benjamin were busy getting a drink of water or relieving themselves, Cecilia let one of her ideas take a hold of her. Making sure that no one was looking, she quickly placed her hands on the wheels of the carriage one by one. In the inner curve of each wheel now lay two runes; one for speed and the other for safety. She certainly wanted them to be there in less than four hours since it already took them an hour to get this far, but she didn't want them to get hurt or hurt others doing so. With just a pinch of magic, this should help get them there faster than if the carriage was absolutely mundane.

Cecilia carefully came over to her rabbit horses and gave them both pats, and conjured apples. While they were happily munching away on their treats, she rubbed down their harnesses until her hands heated up to a red heat. Sweat gathered on her brow and within moments she lifted up her hand in satisfaction. The harnesses now had a flower pattern that seemed frivolous and decorative. In truth though, they had the same runes that the carriage wheels had along with a healing rune to help the rabbit horses to run faster without hurting themselves.

With that bit of magic, their journey concluded in two hours instead of four to the utter bafflement of Wendell. He seemed to brush it off as good luck and good weather though. That was good to know, Cecilia thought. Some would have assumed it was witchcraft right away, but she was happy to note that none of her companions had taken it that way either.

They were finally here. Brinsop Court Manor.

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading, reviewing, favouriting and following this story. Saskiamq, Liz, and Beginner15, you guys are awesome.

Saskiamq: That is amazing of you to say and it makes me so happy that you feel that way. I'm working away on it, and there will be certainly be more to come.

Liz: Thank you very much! Cecilia is a little too generous, but she isn't as gullible or as malleable in comparison to Bingley. She's kind, but she's got a sharp edge to her that will probably come out later. Wickham already made his mystery appearance in chapter one. His reincarnation happens two days after his first appearance in the story, and the story takes place 3 years before Pride and Prejudice so he hasn't met the Bennets yet.

Begginner15: Thank you!


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Brinsop Court Manor. Just beyond this gated road lay the home that Cecilia hoped would last her till she was old and grey.

She'd never been old and grey before, mind you, but she figured if she could combine it with lots of children, grandchildren and a future husband, she'd be okay with aging like that. It would certainly be a new experience. Definitely a long awaited one, if she did say so herself. She shook these thoughts off as they drove up through the long dirt road past the main gates that led to Cecilia's new home.

Before Cecilia and her companions, lay their new abode. All 200 acres. Fertile land further than their eyes could see from their moving vantage point. It made Cecilia feel bubbly and giddy inside. She was happy to find that after they went past the gates and past the long fields, she could get a good view of the place as they ascended the slight hill that it lay on.

The manor was lovelier than she had anticipated. She sort of thought it would be some sort of dilapidated mansion that she'd have to somehow magic into something structurally sound rather than this. Not all documents or people could be counted on to tell the truth after all. This, however, was actually amazing.

The moat water glistened as lily pads and lily flowers floated on the surface. Sure, the water was a little green, but that was to be expected. She caught sight of a couple ducks and ducklings swimming in her moat along with a couple swans that languidly floated on by the ducks. They were adorable and Cecilia had to trample down the urge to coo.

The gray brown slate gabled roofs capped off the grey bricked buildings that lay in the middle of a large moat. All the combined buildings made it look like a huge medieval English country manor house. The rather large cobbled driveway that led to and from the house made it look a little a storybook in Cecilia's mind.

Once they drove in through the cobbled drive way, Cecilia peered up and around at the building before her. It wasn't pristine up close. The lawns, and plants looked a little unruly and unkempt from here. The little plots for flowers or other decorative plants at the front of the house were missing; dark brown dirt stared back at her amongst a sparse splatter of weeds. The lovely large windows and sturdy wooden doors all looked intact, but grimy and had peeling paint. Plus, although none of the chimneys and brick walls that she saw earlier seemed to be crumbling, they weren't clean either. Ivy seemed to crawl on walls' surfaces, and if she wasn't mistaken a couple of of the chimneys looked like they belonged to more than one nesting bird. It certainly looked like it would be harder than she thought to clear it all out.

Discounting all that, the exterior looked very well built and spacious, she mentally concluded. She liked the large arched doorway, and the period features that decorated the entire facade of the house. It kind of reminded her of houses that she once saw during one of her lives in the medieval period. If her hunch was right, then there'd be a lot of wood floors, stone floors, and no carpeting, but she sort of expected that. When did they invent full floor carpeting any ways? She missed that luxury. She hadn't had that in a very long time.

Cecilia noted the size of the manor and tapped her lower lip with her finger. There would be more than enough room for everyone she hired, and more if she wanted. Besides that, she recalled that there were even more buildings further in past the manor that they couldn't see from here. Cottages and barns, she believed. Cecilia didn't quite know what to do with all the space, and felt momentarily overwhelmed. She wrestled down that feeling and stowed it away into the back of her mind. This was not the time for that. She could freak out later. Later in her own room with the privacy of a closed door and locked windows.

Cecilia breathed in deeply before letting out a long breath through her teeth. It was relief to know that she didn't have to worry about her house sinking or crumbling down any time soon. However, she still mentally noted that she'd probably need to try and ward the house later so it would never dare to sink or break. Hell if she did it right, it wouldn't even drop an inch if a sink hole were to appear right under it. She grinned at that thought and toyed with the idea of also making it fire proof. Oh! Perhaps she could even inscribe some security wards on the walls that encircled the entire property... A plan for an improvised electric fence churned in her head.

Maggie let out a delighted laugh when she took it all in as they stopped the carriage, startling Cecilia from her thoughts. Wendell and Benjamin also let out appreciative noises at the sight of the manor. She was happy to note that they loved their new home as much as she did. She took in their jovial faces and nodded. Her plan would work. They'd all be too curious themselves to really watch her. Besides, time was of the essence.

"Madam, I see that your manor has a coach house. I can store the carriage there and tend to the horses while you carry out your business," Wendell stated promptly. Although, he looked like he too wanted to do a bit of looking around as well.

"Thank you, Mr. Gill. I would like that," Cecilia kindly replied.

Maggie twitched and her hands wrung the skirt of her dress, "It looks so lovely, madam."

"I agree. I am glad that I decided to purchase this place. The description that the bank manager gave me, did not do it justice at all," Cecilia nodded to herself and shot Maggie a comforting smile. The girl looked both very nervous and quite excited at the prospect of even just looking at this place. What more when she saw the inside of their new home?

Benjamin held the door open for the two ladies and helped them down. Both ladies gently departed the coach, "Thank you Mr. Mills."

"T'was nothing, madam. We should have your luggage up into the main hall in a bit after we put the coach and horses to rights in their new home," Benjamin stated sheepishly smiling.

Cecilia nodded, "That will be fine. Mr. Gill, Mr. Mills, Maggie and I shall await the two of you at the door."

Both men nodded and soon, Benjamin was back on the carriage with Mr. Gill and headed a little aways from them to the coach house and stables. Cecilia stared after them for a moment before turning towards a rather excited looking Maggie.

Maggie bounced on the balls of her feet and grinned, "I've never been to a manor house before. It all looks so big and lovely. Will we all be staying in the manor with you, madam?"

Cecilia raised a curious brow at Maggie and tilted her head, "Where else would you all go? I suppose there might be a couple cottages a little ways away from the manor that a couple families can move into if they like, but otherwise it would make more sense if we were all in one place."

She flushed and gave her an embarrassed half smile, "That's true, madam. It's just...my second cousin Patrick said that servants didn't sleep in the main house, but were sent to a small shack like place with all the others. He said that's what they do at his master's house, and that the best servants were invisible."

A deep frown crinkled Cecilia's face, "I would never do that. And your cousin Patrick is wrong. They may do that at his place of employment, but I shan't do that here. You are all people first and should be treated as such."

Maggie quirked her brow as a confused look crossed her face, "Beggin' your pardon, madam, but I know we're all people...It's just...ahhh...Everyone treats servants that way, don't they?"

Concern flickered across Cecilia's visage and she strangled down the urge to cry at that confused innocent declaration, "No. No they do not, and they should not. Just because certain people may have more money than others, that doesn't mean that they have the right to treat you, or anyone else as lesser people. Do you understand?"

She recalled all the times that she'd been tortured by... A shiver ran down her spine. Cecilia clamped those memories down with a vice. There would be time to brood over that later. Thinking about it all would just make her burst into tears here and that would make her look mad.

Madness here in this era meant that they thought you were less human than servants; little better than animals, and she couldn't risk that. She chanted in her head to take deep steady breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth as subtly as she could. She managed to steady her heart and her breaths till the sensation of tears prickling her eyes subsided.

Maggie had luckily been thinking so hard that she hadn't noticed the change in Cecilia's demeanor at all.

Her face scrunched up as she quietly thought over Cecilia's words before a smile broke through, "Not really, ma'am, but I do see that you're as kind as my cousin Sally said you'd be. She said that she could spot the kindness in your eyes right away when she met you."

A slightly bemused chortle escaped Cecilia before she could smother it, "Really now? Well, I found that she was just as kind too."

A stubborn look encroached Maggie's face, "You're much kinder than my cousin, madam."

Cecilia's face lightly flushed, "Well thank you, Maggie. I am heartened that you think so."

"Because it's true," she declared defiantly. She really wouldn't back down on this, and although it was sweet, it was also a little annoying. Cecilia sighed and stared at her lady's maid in consideration. How should she approach this?

Benjamin popped up behind them, "What's true?"

Cecilia sighed and primly replied, "Maggie was just saying the she thought me to be quite kind."

A guffaw escaped Benjamin as a warm look presided over his features, "Ahh. It's because you more than are, madam. No one would've taken on an entire disgraced household from a fallen family, even if it was to death. Hah! In fact, any work would've been a miracle without you, ma'am. For all and sundry woulda blamed the help for failing their master's family. "

Cecilia schooled her face into calm acceptance, "I suppose."

Inwardly, she raged against the unfairness of society. No matter what life she ended up in, humans always doled out cruelty to any and all. She'd come to like the people that she'd hired, to a certain degree. To know that they would've all been disgraced and punished for something they couldn't control made her belly recoil.

Maggie smiled triumphantly and hummed happily under her breath. Cecilia figured that she wasn't always right all the time and that Maggie probably relished this moment.

She had enough of this conversation and did her best to change the topic, "Well enough of that. Is Mr. Gill joining us? We only have a scant two hours here before we must return to the Inn to gather everyone else and order a mountain load of things."

"He should be right behind me. Oh! There he is now, " Benjamin happily waved to a very disgruntled looking Wendell.

Wendell huffed a little and put down her two large trunks. He shot Benjamin the stink eye, "Yah coulda helped with the trunks, lad."

"Oh. Sorry, I got distracted and forgot, " Benjamin sheepishly apologized and scratched the back of his head.

Wendell's irritated face softened after seeing Benjamin's sincerity, "Best not to forget again. It was a right ride and I'm not that young anymore."

Cecilia cleared her throat, "Well, we should head inside. The luggage can be left by the front door once we're inside the manor. After all we don't know where everything is yet."

"Thank you very much, madam."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gill. I'll help you take them to the madam's room once we find it."

"Alright, lad. Thank you."

And with that they entered through the double doors that lead inside of the manor.

* * *

It's walls were a bright white with wooden beams that lay nestled in the walls. Empty spaces where paintings would've been covered the walls. Pretty crown molding capped off the top and bottom of it all. While tall windows let light bathe the entire room in warm sunshine. The high ceilings held a beautiful candle chandelier that reminded her of a stag's antlers tied into a circle, and beyond it lay a lovely ceiling. Stark white and carved beautifully. It was all so spacious Cecilia was tempted to yell out echo. She managed to stamp down that impulse, just barely.

Throughout the house, Cecilia found similarly empty candle chandeliers that varied in complexity and size. However, she did note that no matter how big or small each chandelier was, they all remained similar in theme. Stags. Cecilia idly wondered, if the last people had a love of hunting or just deer in general.

Just like she had expected, the floors were some sort of stone floor. Most likely grey marble. There was a layer of dust on everything, but despite that it all seemed lovely anyways.

There was a charming inner court yard with a cobbled floor, small plots for probably flowering plants, and doors that led to the main building, the dining hall, and to the servants wing.

The main building wasn't small by any means. It did actually contain 14 bedrooms. The master bedroom was by far the biggest, with both an ensuite bathroom and an ensuite dressing room. It's not like Cecilia really needed all those rooms though. She didn't have children or family that would want to visit her in this century. If she lived long enough in this world, she probably change the purpose of more than one of those bedrooms.

The library was appealing, but didn't contain as many shelves or books as she wanted it to. That would have to be remedied later on. Besides that, a desk would also have to be put there as well.

The office that was next to it was bare, as was the music room, the drawing room, and the games room was bereft of things as well. Cecilia also found that it was convenient that some of the furniture from the last owners remained here. On the other hand, none of it was complete. There were chairs, couches, tables and more that were missing in order to make the rooms feel whole. She figured that she'd also probably need supplies and furniture for the kitchen, drawing room, foyay, solar, dining hall, and the receiving room. So many more rooms needed to be filled, and thinking about it all made her feel tired.

Their tour took as long as it did because Cecilia had insisted on inspecting everything, down to each and every tap, sink, drain, doorknob, and wall. Her new servants took it all in stride and left her alone to her ministrations every time she got this way. This, however, was her plan all along.

While they looked away as she looked at everything this way and that, she pressed in minuscule runes onto everything that she could reach. This would help her transfigure, ward, and charm everything with none of her servants the wiser. She'd keep everything looking like it belonged in this century, of course, but with a spark of magic she could twist it to work in the way that she wanted. With each and every room they moved on through, she added her personal touch to everything. She felt her hands shake with each application of magic, but she stubbornly continued.

Her new kitchen was huge and had the same grey marbled floors that she found in every room they encountered. A large butcher block island stood in the middle of her kitchen; empty shelves underneath it, which she honestly found surprising. Cecilia was quite enamored with the butcher block counter tops, the deep porcelain farm house sinks, and the two black wood burning stoves. She wasn't so pleased with the lack of supplies in the kitchen though. There wasn't even one pot or pan left.

Before her servants could peer into the kitchen after her, she waved her hand and added in a deep kitchen pantry by the door next to the butler's pantry. She enlarged the ice box into the size of a deep apartment sized fridge, and even managed to charm it to be cool enough to refrigerate food in the way a modern fridge might. Mind you, there wasn't a light, or a freezer in the ice box. Cecilia figured though, just in case the cooling charm didn't work, that another layer of runes to keep food in a cool stasis and a subtle confusion charm to make anyone overlook the unnaturalness of the ice box, would do the trick. Besides, with all that layered magic no one would ask any questions or worse throw any accusations.

She leaned against the kitchen island and felt like she might drop. Her legs felt like they belonged to a newly born doe rather than her own. Cecilia's hands continued to shake as she stared at them. Sweat soaked her forehead, and Cecilia resolutely wiped it away with her sleeve. She managed to do this all with none of her entourage the wiser, and she could do it.

"You can do this. You've survived 41 different fucked up deaths, and you can survive this. Just a little more," Cecilia murmured to herself under her breath. It wasn't the best pep talk, but it did manage to bluster her spirits just a little bit. She took in several fortifying breaths and straightened up as best as she could. She couldn't show weakness. Not now.

She encountered another problem that made her want to scream. Cecilia was already fighting exhaustion and was very irritated that the pipes were messed up. Sure she could turn it on, but when she went to try both taps only cold water surged out. Then, when she dared taste the water, she almost gagged. She could clearly taste rusted copper and lead. With the pipes the way that they were, she had to pull on even more magic than she was comfortable with in order to transfigure all the plumbing behind everyone's backs.

It was worth it though, even if she had to inconspicuously consume two whole dex tabs so she wouldn't give away into a dead faint. The sugar that rushed into her system took only a couple minutes, but they did the trick. She felt slightly revitalized and found that the cold sweat that had covered her from head to toe, was slowly receding. She had enough magic to do what she needed to do. Cecilia took a hold of one of the pipes and concentrated till it felt like it would burn her. Now all the pipes were now lead free, could now dispense both hot and cold fresh filtered water, and anything that was flushed down any drains would be transported into a void.

She'd have to transfigure all the toilets, baths, and showers to do the same later on, but she figured that she could do that on another day. Taking out all the lead in pipes and paint covering the walls was also draining enough. She wasn't that ecstatic to do even more magic to help change her new home right now. At least not with a lot of food, clean water, and rest. Oh! A nap would be wonderful right now.

Besides that, making sure that the entire manor had central heating and cooling with the use of runes and charms wasn't a small undertaking. With each placement of ventilation charms, heating runes and cooling runes, bit by bit her energy drained. Plus, she had an idea on what she wanted to do with her ensuite bathroom and ensuite dressing room. It would require a bit of transfiguration, runes, and charms, but it would definitely have to be for another time when she had more strength. Dex tabs could only do so much.

Cecilia popped in another dex tab into her mouth while everyone was looking around the dining hall. She consumed it quickly and felt her magic surge and warm her body. Her vision cleared and her steps soon became steady again. At this rate, she'd finish off all her dex tabs and pass out at the end of the day. They continued onwards and an idea began to prick Cecilia's brain despite the dangers it may have.

They crossed into the servants wing of the manor, and Cecilia found it a little less grand in comparison to the main manor. The ceilings were plain and not as tall, the floors were wooden, and everything seemed much more cramped in comparison. Cecilia frowned. She couldn't change this without people noticing.

Before she could take one step through one of the closed doors, Maggie gently held her hand back. The softness of her new mistress's hands startled her, but her grip remained firm.

Cecilia let out a surprised sound and solidly took her appendage back, "Maggie?" She cocked her head to the side and raised her brow. Cecilia did not like it when people put their hands on her without permission. Maggie was lucky it was her and not someone else, she would've reacted a little worse if that had been the case.

Maggie chewed her lip in distress before murmuring, "I'm sorry, ma'am. It's just could we skip this? Even just for now?" Her hand twisted and clutched at the hems of her sleeves as she shifted from one foot to the other.

A frown brought down Cecilia's brows as she scrunched up her face, "Why?" Her tone belied the undercurrent of steel that lay beneath her voice.

Cecelia didn't mind that they acted respectable, but casually in her presence. She preferred it in fact since she'd been in their position far too many times. Nevertheless, she was fairly certain servants were not allowed to do things like this. She certainly hadn't. However, what bothered her the most was the way that she was stopped. It made her feel powerless. She'd been powerless too many times before, and this was the life where she chose that she wouldn't tolerate it anymore. It was too bad that she'd landed in the 1800s when she decided this though.

Wendell coughed and awkwardly looked at their mistress. His voice was tinged with sadness as a bitter look flashed across his features, "The lass is right madam. Wouldn't do to put you through seeing our side of the building. My old master certainly paid no need to do so, as kind as he was..." Wendell avoided Cecilia's hard look and took to studying the ceiling instead. Kind indeed.

Benjamin hesitantly chimed in, "True with my previous one as well. It's just not done, madam." His normally sunny visage dimmed.

Perhaps it was embarrassment or shame that colored their opinions, or perhaps it was something else entirely, but Cecilia pushed through and compromised with her staff. She took in a fortifying breath and deeply sighed. She kind of felt like a deflated balloon now.

Cecilia crossed her arms and looked up at all of them with a firm glance,"If you all must insist. I would still like to continue inspecting everything outside the rooms as I have been doing this entire time. I shan't be budged on that."

"Yes madam."

"Yes ma'am."

"I'm sorry, madam."

"No need Maggie. It's alright."

The wheels in her head kept turning. Cecilia still wanted to transfigure all the, probably, tiny servants rooms into servant apartments for each family. She could probably do that on the ride back if she ate all the dex tabs. It was a gamble though.

The tantalizing thought that it would be a wondrous surprise for everyone trumped the caution that raged against her chest. It would definitely work since they wouldn't dare look at it all while she was there amongst them. Plus, it would be a good change. She knew that there would be a servants hierarchy, one that even pervades where a person slept, but she refused to do that. Her servants would learn that she was different from their past employers, and Cecilia relished that thought. She'd do it on the way back.

Besides, sure, there were cottages further away from the house, but she figured that most would have to go to the farmers that she'd eventually have to hire. Two would definitely belong to the land steward and the house steward respectively. So there wouldn't be a way for everyone to have a decent place to live with just those buildings.

Although there was still a lot to change, especially with her magic, she was glad that at the very least all the walls in every building were still whole and standing. Plus, there weren't any bugs, mold, or vermin in the house. That in itself was freaking miracle in her mind.

It scarcely took them two hours to finish their tour of the entire manor, but Cecilia was happy with that. There would be more time later on for her to tour her whole property after she was able to move in with her household. After all, daylight waited for no one.

* * *

AN: Thank you for all your support and interest in this story! You guys are great. A special thanks to those that reviewed; Liz, Kage no Akuma-Shadow Demon (Scarlet) and Saskiamq!

Scarlet: I'm really happy that you're enjoying it so far! I'm also glad that you like Cecilia. I'm rather fond of her too. She adapts well and is quite resilient considering all the lives she's lived and all the deaths that she remembers. She's always been kind and generous to almost everyone, despite all the crap and horror that's she's been through. It's an inner strength that I'm glad she's gained over time.

She's lived 41 different lives in all her reincarnation cycles with a combined 881 years between all of them put together. This is why she can't remember everything in detail within each life, but she's good at keeping the skills from each life if she lives long enough in that reincarnation cycle.

I'm ecstatic to know that you like the people I've introduced. They all have their own little backstories, personalities, and dreams, but nothing quite like Cecilia.

Thank you! I worked really hard on making all of the covers on my stories. I enjoyed it and I felt like it put a nice touch to each story. I'm still kind of torn on whether I should make something better for Samsara though.

1\. Yes, he will be indeed. That is correct. It hasn't happened because by that time Wickham will be different. With the current time line, Wickham does have the lump sum of $3000 instead of the living he could've gotten, but he hasn't gone to Darcy to fight over the property that he was meant to inherit. He'll be replaced by the reincarnated OC before he ever gets to do that. Yes, it is mentioned. I'm happy you noticed that!

2\. A lot of wealthy people overlook their staff during this century, from what I've read and researched. They're not treated very well by a lot of people with money, so Cecilia will be vastly different from what they're used to. They've just been used to being treated as nice servants, and not as kind hard working people. Cecilia will show them that there is a difference. The uniforms and extra clothes will be an unexpected treat for the staff.

3\. No. Amanda completely died from her timeline the moment Cecilia's soul was flung into hers for her next reincarnation cycle. Besides that, the portal in Amanda's bathroom was a far different way to get to the past in comparison to how Cecilia ended up where she did. Cecilia is very much stuck in 1810.

4\. There will certainly be a ripple effect since a young rich childless widow, even nouveau rich, will seem advantageous to a lot of the people around her. There is a definite possibility for her to befriend the Bennets. If Mrs. Bennet were to ever find out how much Cecilia had in assets, she'd probably wish that Cecilia were a Cecil instead just so she could marry one of her daughters to her. Cecilia is 21 currently. At 1810, Jane is 19 and Elizabeth is 17.

5\. Cecilia can speak English (fluent), Somalian (speech), Japanese (fluent), Hindi (fluent), Spanish (speech), Gaelic (fluent), Hebrew (fluent), German (speech), French (speech), Russian (speech), Italian (fluent), Finnish (speech), Korean (fluent), Arabic (fluent), Portuguese (speech), Nigerian (speech), Tagalog (fluent), Vietnamese (speech), and three alien languages; Martian, Neptunian, and Athrielian. (fluent in all 3 alien languages) She's been reincarnated in a lot of lives that have English as a main or important secondary language, and therefore thinks in that language the most.

She can play a total of three instruments: the piano, the violin, and the drums. The violin and the drums were recreational interests, but at one point in time she had been a concert pianist.

She'll take advantage of her knowledge in this era, but she'll do it as subtly as she can. She could create the bralette if she becomes frustrated enough with the lack of comfort there is for undergarments in this time period, but I doubt that she'd want to patent it. Not without a lot of encouragement. The thing with Cecilia is that she's been through different lives where she's been famous for one thing or another, and it never ends well for her in the long run. Especially now that she's back in time, it would be dangerous if people found out that she was much smarter than her apparent station in their current society. If she were to invent anything, it'd have to be done sneakily and under a possible pseudonym that's masculine enough for people.

Her societal circles would be other rich widows, other folks that have gotten rich from inheritances and not by laboring for it, and people in equal standing to her when it comes to property and money. She's in the upper class, but not too high on the upper class ladder. That would make her gentry, but not nobility. There won't be any nobles within her reach though because of where she's from and how exactly she became wealthy in society's eyes. She might meet Lady Catherine de Bourgh though, but then again she may not.

Honestly, just based on money and societal position alone, Cecilia would be ideal for Darcy when you think about it and discount her being a widow. I wouldn't pair them with one another though. She'd probably end up wanting to strangle Darcy.

Saskiamq: Yeah, Cecilia hates dying young. I'm glad that you liked her display of magic. She'll be doing more magic later on, as subtly as she can though. She's been accused of being a witch one too many times and has died for it, so it's not a mistake she'd want to make again. She's fond of animals, and doesn't like hurting them unnecessarily.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

They all loaded up into the coach once again, but without her two trunks. It made Cecilia feel a little anxious, but it made sense to leave her trunks in her new room at the manor. A lighter coach meant that they could go faster. Extra weight would add more time onto their journey, which was not an option.

While Maggie was staring happily out of the window for the moment, Cecilia plopped the rest of her dex tabs into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed as fast as she could, but when it went down, it felt chalky. It was times like this wherein she wished she could use magic in front of people willy nilly. Water would've been lovely, but she didn't want the pond water that they were still carrying around. She cursed herself for not thinking of replacing it with the newly filtered manor water.

Magic slowly surged into her system, making her feel revitalized. It wouldn't be long now till she could initiate her plan. She hoped that it wouldn't completely drain her though. 20 apartments, even if they were bare bones, wasn't exactly something to sneeze at. She was so glad she had left transfiguration runes, along with enlargement charms on every single surface she could touch in the servant's wing of the manor. If she didn't pass out from all of this, she would definitely only be able to do a smidge of magic, if any, after for at least a day. She crossed her fingers in her dress's pockets and hoped for the best.

"I'm so excited to actually have a room with a possible bed in it. We sleep on straw pellets at home, cause papa is public a coachman and wood chopper, while mama is a washer woman. Real beds are way too expensive..." Maggie trailed off and a nervous look settled onto her face, "Not that I'm presuming nothin', madam. Servants don't need beds. Pellets are better than the floor anyway..."

Benjamin let out a barking laugh and peered behind him through the peephole into the coach, "Girlie, you sure do talk a lot. Never met someone talk this much to her mistress before. Sorry bout her, ma'am. Don't know her well, but I know she don't mean nothing by it."

Cecilia tilted her head at them and bit the inner flesh of her mouth gently. They tended to sound much more country when they were nervous, she inwardly noted. It would be good to keep that in mind.

She shook her head, "I do not mind, conversation after all is key in getting to know one another. Besides, I know that it is not exactly a societal norm to be this familiar with me, as your employer, but I do not really care about that either."

Benjamin raised his brow as a bright smile engulfed his face, "Thank you, madam."

"Mills, get back here in your seat right and proper. Keep leanin' like that and you'll fall off head over feet, and the horses will trample ya," Wendell pulled Benjamin back with a sigh.

Maggie gave Cecilia a tiny timid smile, "I'm sorry still though, madam. I just get so excited when I think about it all, that I can't help but burst with chatter. Mama and papa say it's a quality that only they will tolerate, but my aunt and her family tolerate it. And you haven't hit me to be quiet like other rich people have done before, so..."

A hopeful look burned on her face, and Cecilia's heart constricted. She'd endure any and all babble from this girl now. Damn it.

Her warm gloved hand patted Maggie's clenched fists gently, "Still your worries. I shan't punish you for speaking when you have things running away in your mind. Be free to speak if it eases you. If I do disagree with anything that you say, be aware that I will inform you with my words and not with my hands. I would never do that to anyone, if I can help it. To address your earlier question, yes, you will have a bed and not a straw pellet."

It would be the best fucking mattresses they would ever sleep on, and part of Cecilia wanted to see the expressions on their faces when they first tried out their new beds. Her resolve to transfigure and fix the servant wing hardened. She couldn't let them down now. Not when they all just started their journey into this new life together. Gah. She was getting too sentimental again. She really shouldn't keep doing that. Bad habits like that tended to stick harder with her though. It was hard not to care about people.

Maggie beamed at her. It reminded her of the same look a child would get when they first met Santa Claus after hearing about him as a child. Mind you, they were always mall Santas, but the expression was all the same. Wonderment mixed with happiness. Had no one treated Maggie this way? What of the others? Did that apply to them too? She inwardly cursed this society again.

The ride back past fields, villages, and farms through the woods was swift with the magic affecting the carriage and the horses. No one mentioned or noticed it though. The horses and everyone took a break at the half hour mark when Wendell noticed that the rabbit horses had started slowing down. They definitely needed a break. It was then that Cecilia took her chance. She figured that while her servants were away from the carriage, she could do this big bit of magic unwatched and uninterrupted.

Cecilia closed her eyes and focused in on the core of her magic. Her belly tightened and she twisted both her wrists in a sharp motion while clearly visualizing what she wanted done to her house. It took a full 15 minutes, but when she felt her heart jolt she knew that the magic had taken. Her mind felt like it was in a bit of a tizzy with her large use of magic and she felt herself feel drowsy. Cecilia's head felt fuzzy and her limbs felt heavy. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she slumped slightly in her seat. It was kind of hard to fully slump into a comfortable position with her stays. Stupid corsets.

Maggie suddenly yanked the carriage door open and bounded to her mistress's side, "Madam Price! Are you alright!?"

She blinked open one eye and focused in on Maggie's worried face, "I am fine, Maggie. Just tired. I suppose I shall just have to rest as we continue on the rest of our journey."

Her lady's maid fretted about her as she helped her lie down onto one of the coach benches. She draped Cecilia's blue cloak about her carefully and peeked out of the carriage. Wendell and Benjamin came over after making sure that the horses were fully rested and reigned back into their proper positions.

Wendell's brows raised and almost disappeared past his hairline, "Girl, what happened?!"

A cross look covered Maggie's face, "Shh! You'll wake the mistress. I fear this journey has worn her out already."

Benjamin shook his head and combed a hand through his hair. A snort escaped his mouth before he could help it, "More like all your chattering made her want to sleep."

"That was mean," Maggie turned towards them and pouted as she crouched by their mistress.

Wendell chuckled at that and sighed, "You two should stop the squabbling and get back into the coach. Let the mistress sleep. After what she's done for all of us, it's the very least we can do for her."

Benjamin and Maggie both looked down quietly mumbling in agreement. Wendell could certainly put on a commanding presence when necessary. It might have been because he had unruly children that did the exact same thing though. Wendell got them back onto the road and quickly heading towards their destination. He hoped that they wouldn't be too quick though, their mistress looked too tired to entertain much of anyone right now.

* * *

The rocking movement around her and the slight bump now and again was the first thing she noted. Cecilia pried her eyes open and the world slowly faded into focus. Maggie's worried face peered down at her as she slowly sat up. The coach was still moving, but it looked like they were just about there. Buildings, cobbled streets, people and the foul scent of the London air surrounded them.

She squinted at Maggie and rubbed her head, "Maggie?"

"Yes, mistress?"

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"Ummm...I'm not sure, madam. I don't own a watch, and I don't know how to read a clock face."

"Ah. That is alright then," she popped open the pocket watch around her neck. It was 2:00 pm. That meant that there was still two hours left before sunset, which meant that the stores would close soon. Cecilia inwardly groaned. They were chasing sunlight now. That meant her initial plan of sending part of her household as a cleaning crew after she first looked around wouldn't be happening now. She missed electricity. It made getting things done much easier than relying on daylight and candles.

Suddenly, the carriage came to a halt. Cecilia perked up. Maybe they would have enough time to at the very least go shopping and hunker down at her new place. Dusk was when all the shops closed after all since electricity wasn't invented yet. Gas street lights were only for the city streets and no shop would waste candles to keep their doors open past dusk. Candles were too expensive for that. With no light, there wouldn't be a way to do anything properly.

Both ladies were helped out of the coach by a smiling Benjamin. They were finally at the Hobberlain Inn again with time to spare, and she hand't died from magical overuse. She felt her limbs and shook them slightly. Her strides were steady again and she felt much more herself after her nap. Magic thrummed under her skin and Cecilia felt like nothing would go wrong.

Maggie darted away towards her cousin Sally, Wendell wandered off to his wife, and Benjamin caught the eye of one of the serving wenches, and they soon parted ways from their mistress for the moment. Cecilia was grateful. She needed to do somethings before she gathered them all up and out anyways. Ordering everything up without such a large group would make things go faster in her opinion. The latter part of this day would be a piece of cake.

Well, that was what she had thought. Among the din in the tavern inn, she spotted a face that she'd hoped that she wouldn't see for a long while yet. Wickham. When he turned and spotted her across the room, she noted that he seemed vastly different from the last time she'd seen him.

Weren't his eyes brown before? Or were they always this bright cerulean? The way he looked at her unnerved her. That was different too. Before it felt like his eyes had initially seen dollar signs on her before stripping her naked in his mind. Now it was unpleasant in a different way. Like... It was like he was looking into her soul. She shivered. Whatever, it wasn't like they were going to interact besides basic pleasantries, right?

Dorathea popped up from behind him, a warm smile etched on her face. Was she really directing that warmth towards him? Wasn't he a reputable rake or something now? Or hadn't that happened yet? Although Cecilia didn't like admitting it, she was confused as to how she was in a novel. Considering her plight of everlife though, it wasn't too far a stretch. They started moving towards her, and she countered them by readily slipping into an empty seat at an abandoned table.

It didn't deter either of them though. In seven short strides, they sat down with her. It was definitely Wickham though, but the handsomer version. He looked kind of like that attractive man that played that alien caped crusader who had a thing for L names. Super something. But the one that played that farm boy in his secret life. She sighed. She was so bad at remembering details like that. What and who else was different in this world? Or was it just him?

Dorathea beamed at her mistress, "I'm so glad you are back, madam. I had forgotten that the prior Land Steward had retired after the death of our last master and mistress, and we were in need of another. It was but luck when we, my daughter and I, found this gallant hero."

A self-conscious look wound its way onto Wickham's face, "I would not say gallant, Mrs. Lynch. It was but a happy coincidence that I chanced upon the two of you in the way that I did."

Dorathea vigorously shook her head as fire danced in her eyes, "Indeed. He saved my girl Ruthie and has the qualifications that a Land Steward must have. He was a barrister, and- Oh! Mr. Williams over here. Do take a seat." She waved over Mr. Williams as he was passing, probably headed towards his wife.

Mr. Reginald Williams. He was her House Steward if she recalled. Oh! Yeah. She remembered him because his heavily pregnant wife. She was so sweet to her the other day. One of the only people that offered her a hug along with a curtsy. Mrs. Williams was such an odd duck.

"Mistress Price, Mrs. Lynch, Mr. Wickham. What can I do for all of you?" Reginald gingerly took a seat beside all of them. He shared a nod with his colleagues and sent a deferential look towards Cecilia.

Cecilia looked around her and hummed, "I know your pregnant wife needs tending to, so I shan't take up too much of your time, Mr. Williams. Is that not correct, Mrs. Lynch?"

Dorathea sheepishly grinned at her mistress, "Of course, madam. It's just... He can vouch for what I say. Mr. Wickham is a hero deserving of your consideration."

"Please. You need not feel forced, madam," Wickham gazed at her and seemed to drip sincerity. It caught her slightly off guard.

She blinked and licked her suddenly dry lips, "Well. I have not had the proper introductions and reasoning as to why I should hire you yet, but I shall decided after that. So, to whom do we owe the pleasure of this most felicitous offer of service?"

A low chuckle emitted past his lips, his eyes danced, "All felicity is entirely mine." Her heart sped up and she suddenly felt all too warm in all her layers.

"Good heavens. I'm sorry, madam. In my excitement, my manners have flown away from me. Mr. Wickham this is my mistress, Madam Price," a deep blush covered her housekeeper's face, darkening her freckles on her pale skin.

"George Wickham, at your service, madam," he nodded his head, a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

Why was it so familiar? How did she recognize it? She stamped down those questions and tried to calm the panic that surged in her. Upon closer inspection, he was certainly as striking up close as they depicted him in all those other stories. Tall, broad shouldered, dark hair, blue eyes, and a chiseled jawline. Definitely worthy of a superhero's visage.

Her cheeks dimpled, while her eyes stayed sharp, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wickham. I am Cecilia Price. Now, how did this dashing man become a hero?" What did this man actually do? Was it theatrics?

"Oh!" Tears gathered in Dorathea's eyes, she dabbed them quickly away with her hanky and took in a resolute breath, "He rescued my dear Ruthie from getting spoiled by a drunken debauched depraved degenerate."

Cecilia raised her brow as an astonished expression stretched across her face, "That is quite a claim of heroism, dear lady. What say you, Mr. Wickham, Mr. Williams?"

Reginald bit his lower lip and leaned closer, "He really was a hero, madam. If I can say so myself, Mr. Wickham pushed that right beast of an oaf off of poor Ruthie when she kept denying his advances. Mr. Hobborlain then tossed out the drunkard when it was clear he wouldn't get up any more. I would've killed him if he had touched my Amelia that way, and would not have provided the mercy of unconsciousness that Mr. Wickham had given him."

Wickham seemed strangely silent. Wasn't he supposed to be a braggart that pulled on people's affections and first impressions of him to his gain? Instead Cecilia peered into his eyes and found that they were somber. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and didn't even bother to hide it. Did he not want to fight? Didn't he want the accolades of being a hero?

"Mr. Wickham, I have heard your heroism from other people's lips, yet not a scant detail escapes yours," Cecilia tilted her head and tried to read the expression that passed across his face before a crooked smile tugged his lips upwards. It didn't quite reach his eyes though.

"It was the correct measure to take. No one should impose their will on others when it is quite apparent that the advances are unwanted," he firmly declared. His expression was resolute and for a moment he seemed to search her face for something. His eyes softened and apparently he found something. What, she couldn't figure out. The back of her mind kept tugging at her though. She knew that look too, somehow. Who was this guy really?

Dorathea had stars in her eyes at that notion and an approving look was painted on Reginald's face. A considering look slowly verged onto Cecilia's visage. She'd hire him. Her intuition was pinging and it was screaming that she needed to keep him close, but the reasons as to why kept escaping from her grasp. Like smoke against mirrors.

He moved closer to them and murmured in a conspiratorial tone, "It is in my opinion, that people are people and should be treated as such. No matter the gender, the societal position, religion, or race." His wide shoulders tensed slightly, but relaxed when he noted that nothing happened.

Cecilia's brows raised as she glanced at her two employees. There was a brief stunned silence around them. The adoration in her staff's eyes for this strange man grew tenfold. It wasn't a popular opinion around here, with the rich anyways, but it was the same one that Cecilia carried. She held her hand out to Wickham, "Welcome to Brinsop Court Manor's household, Mr. Wickham."

"It will be a pleasure to serve you, madam," George took her gloved hand and placed a chaste kiss on it, so soft it felt like he hadn't even touched her, before he let her have her hand back.

The way that he said it was clearly polite, but she felt like there was a steamy undertone in his words. A flush threatened to overcome her face, but Cecilia managed to stamp it down in time. She turned to Reginald and cleared her throat, "Have you found replacements for the grounds keepers, gardeners, and the like in order to complete our household, Mr. Williams? I am afraid daylight is not on our side if we are to finish our business here in London post haste."

Reginald resolutely nodded, "I've found some admirable fellows all with solid references."

"Good, thank you. If you would gather everyone in an hour to this inn, we shall all be able to travel to Brinsop Court Manor before the darkness overtakes us. Please do hire additional carts and carriages. I would rather spend the expense on our safe journey than not and risk the dangers of a dark road," Cecilia bid her House Steward adieu as she gently got up from her seat. The hard wooden seats of the inn were pretty, but not that comfortable and she really wanted to crack her back now.

She plucked a small handful of coins, about 10 pounds, from her money pouch with deft hands, "This should be more than enough to transport all of us and our things to our desired location." London coachmen were about a pound each for a 6 person coach along with a bit of luggage if she guessed right. Carts were about the same, but they only really carried excess luggage, at least that's what she wanted them to do.

"It shall be done as quick as lighting, madam," Reginald purposefully proclaimed as he pocketed the coins. He strode off around the inn and started gathering the household staff. There was a slight bounce in his step that made dimples prick Cecilia's face.

Her warm gaze landed down at an animated looking Dorathea, "If you would, Mrs. Lynch, could you and the cook gather the necessary items for supper at the manor? We are short of rather everything there. Pots, pans, kitchen accessories, cutlery, china, meats, vegetables, fruits, grain, dairy, tea, and the like. And thank you for the sweet tarts you gave us earlier for our journey to survey the manor ahead of everyone else."

"Oh dear! Well, you're very welcome, madam. Right then, I'll grab the cook and we will do our best, mistress," she nearly bounced up her seat when Cecilia presented her with 40 pounds. Her grey eyes nearly popped out of her head when she held all that money in her hands. She hesitantly drew the money into her apron skirt and went off to find the cook amongst the other patrons of the inn.

Suddenly she felt that George was far closer than he was before. She looked up and found him standing beside her. He was rather tall in comparison to her, maybe a good head taller. He was so close that she could feel the heat radiating off of him. She did her best to subtly gulp down the lump that formed in her throat for reasons that continued to escape her.

Cecilia cleared her throat, "If you would accompany me while I order the rest of the necessary things to furnish the manor, Mr. Wickham?"

"Of course. After all, the first duty of a gentleman is accompanying an enchanting lady," his tone was light, a heated look flashed across his features before it vanished behind a mischievous smirk. George held out his arm and Cecilia gently looped her appendage onto the crock of his elbow.

She had some questions for him and she wanted answers.

* * *

AN: Thank you for all your support and interest in my story! You guys are beyond wonderful. A special thanks to those that reviewed; Liz, Kage no Akuma-Shadow Demon, and Saskiamq.

Saskiamq: Thank you! She has a paranoid streak in her, and it makes sense when you think about how she's continuously died before she was ready. Cecilia has a heart that holds in far too much to not care. She can't help but treat them the way that she does because she can empathize. There will definitely be trouble with how she treats her staff and those that are supposed to be lower than her station. You can bet that rumors are already circulating. Her meeting with Darcy will certainly be amusing. More for everyone else rather than them because if he pushes it she might just try to find a way to strangle him a little.

Kage no Akuma-Shadow Demon: You're very welcome. If you have any other questions, please ask away. It's fun talking about the parts and pieces that make up the story. Oh! Thank you so much.

1\. I hoped you liked Wickham 2.0 so far. An entire chapter will explain a bit of how and why he ended up in this crazy situation.

5\. Oh, that will certainly happen in a future chapter, and I'm quite excited to flesh it out.

It is ironic in that sense because they certainly won't end up together like in the show. If forced together out of societal pressure, it would only be a financially advantageous marriage, and there certainly wouldn't be love in it. She would try to get along with him, but with his pigheadedness and her new determination to never again be held back in that way, peace wouldn't last long. Cecilia certainly deserves better, especially after having to go through the previous 41 lives.

Liz: Thank you! I'm glad you like it, and I'm excited to see him too. Cecilia wouldn't bring the future into the past, at least not like that. She was only transfiguring things to work in the way that she wants, but still look like they belong in the current time. The ice box is as big as an apartment sized fridge, and now contains charms that act in the way that a modern day fridge would, minus the light. However, it's also lined with a slight confusion charm, so no one asks why the ice box is so big, and so cold. There were showers in the 1800s but it would recycle used water that the person used instead of just new water flowing through and then going down the drain when it was used. She made it so that the runes that she placed would act to summon fresh clean water that would surge through all the pipes, and the drains wouldn't circle back into the house but would rather be sent to the void.


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Four Hours Before Cecilia Came Back To The Inn:

Sunlight soaked through fluttering white curtains. While warm sunshine danced across James's eyelids. A cool breeze blew by and brushed across his dark long lashes disrupting his deep sleep.

His eyes flew open. And for a moment, all he could see was warm yellow light encapsulating him. It was blinding.

As the bright light slowly receded, he blinked rapidly. Eventually, his vision cleared and sharpened. Confusion marred his face as he found himself in a wholly different place. His mind tried it's best to catch up to his sudden change of scenery. It was jarring though.

He laid there quietly, deeply breathing in and out. In and out. In and out. The air felt different here. Hell, it smelled different too. It lacked the scent of ozone and air refresher fluid. Instead, the scent of food, the musk of unwashed masses, trash, shit, piss, and burning oil permeated the air.

Plus, the last time he checked, Anaconda cockpits didn't have wooden beams in their ceilings. No spaceship did. Well if you didn't include the luxury liners, but he was never the type to ride those. Too big and ungainly. He preferred his ships like he liked his women. Or rather woman. Short and sturdy.

He glanced at the window near him and squinted. That didn't look like his typical holo window. Sunlight felt too real.

James stared back at the ceiling and strained his ears. Human voices murmured from somewhere past him while birds sang out through the open window. This was all too unreal. Or was it too real? Oh no. Did it happen again?

A sudden feeling of dread drew into him. The gravity here felt different too. Heavier than the artificial gravity on the ship. He probably wasn't even in space anymore, was he? What planet was he on then? What year?

Vague memories lingered at the back of his mind that didn't quite feel like his. When he tried to grasp them, they were as solid as smoke. After failing a fourth time trying to reach the foreign images, he huffed. Slightly irritated, he rolled his eyes and sighed. This wasn't a dream, was it? His dreams were never this detailed or clear.

Suddenly he twitched, and surprisingly James felt his limbs tingle. That hadn't happened in over ten years. He stared at his hands and wiggled his digits. No more blue skin. At this point, James figured that he wasn't an Athrielian anymore. Plus, the whole bipedal thing clued him in on it too.

Dumbfounded, he clenched and unclenched his fists and his toes experimenting with his new range of movement and control without aid. James gently swung his arms and legs into the air back and forth like a toddler.

Huh. He wasn't a paraplegic anymore. A slight smile curled onto his face at that notion, while a sense of freedom swelled up in his chest. He'd never have to wear a mech suit ever again.

His celebration was cut short, however, when a sudden pressure sunk behind his eyes. James sat up and held the heels of his hands against the sockets of his eye balls. The first moment waking up somewhere foreign always left him a little muddled, pained, and fuzzy. It was usually worse in these cases when he... Fuck.

He sighed and defeatedly admitted it to himself. There really was no use in denying it. He must have died again. Another restart, but he couldn't even really remember how he died before waking up this time.

In his last life he was a space something, right? Right. A doctor maybe? No...that was the past... He was a... A soldier? No, that was before too. He was a... A space fighter pilot. At least he was when he he was awake last...

A scrunched up expression drew on his face, as he did his best to remember what happened to him. The vast emptiness of space came to mind. Sounds of blasters echoed in his ears. He flinched at the remembrance of it. People he vaguely recalled were saying that it was hopeless. What was hopeless?

He searched and searched through the deluge of memories swirling in his head. Oh yeah! James faintly recalled stubbornly trying to find one of their missing comrades.

He'd stolen a spare ship because everyone else had given up. But he hadn't. He would never give up. She may have been just another casualty to the higher ups. Just another replaceable pilot. But not to him. He still believed in the motto of 'no person left behind'.

She'd been taken hostage with a bunch of civilians they'd been trying to evacuate ages ago. He managed to finally track her down to a dying planet in the middle of the war... A desperate feeling washed over him, while a sense of urgency confused him.

Wait... Was this not just a sense of duty and loyalty? His brain tingled. No, it wasn't just that. Had they taken _his_ girl?

A sudden memory of happy hazel eyes flashed through his head. The sound of tinkling laughter echoed at the back of his mind. Hurried whispered words of love reverberated through his memories. Phantom kisses peppered his face. A sparkling diamond ring glinted against candle light. Bodies sweetly came together as one. The tender memory of warm arms embraced him. His heart thudded in his ears. Bu bump. Bu bump.

She'd been the love of his life. Every life. Was that why...!? He clutched his head in his hands and grunted as the room seemed to spin away from him. Black dots encroached on his vision. A pained whine escaped past his lips, "Fuck."

So, his voice was deeper now too. Then this was definitely a new body then, right? Was this another life he'd stolen? Guilt ate at his gut. It was quickly overtaken by another bout of vertigo.

A sudden nausea overcame him and violently forced him out of bed. He dashed towards a nearby bucket and promptly emptied his stomach. His mouth tasted bitter as bile poured out of him.

His body quivered as images assaulted him. Dark rain pounded on asphalt. A car crushed him as he reached out to her. Cotton fields blew around him. A nose tightened around his neck as he watched on in agony while they killed the woman he loved. Fiery explosions reigned around him in the next moment. Burnt flesh. The vacuum of space suffocated him. Frozen pieces. A tsunami washed everything away. Breathless bubbles. The memories kept spinning and spinning. He just wanted it to stop. Dear God. The horror. The pain. He just wanted it to stop.

He hurled over to the bucket again and heaved. Nothing was left in him, but the images kept coming. Broken bodies. A fire that ate away at everything. Monstrous faces and dirty hands tearing at them, and blood... So much blood. So much pain. Tears dripped down his cheeks. Hollow hazel eyes stared back at him and he wretched the memories shut. A chant slowly resounded in his head as some of the images thankfully dissipated like the morning mist.

To stop the cycles.

You must find.

Your other half.

Your piece of mind.

And bind the halves

That were once broken.

So mote it be.

A feminine voice faded away into an apology. There were too many deaths that he remembered far too clearly, and he just wanted it to completely stop. Even just for a moment. Soon enough, his mind became blessedly blank.

James heaved in the foul air. It tasted awful, but he figured it was better than the bitter taste that burned his throat. He rubbed his temples as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes again. Quickly swiping at the tear tracks that stained his face, he glared at the wall. Why the hell did they have to die saving a woman that ended up cursing them? This was the thanks that they got. Hah!

Roughly, he wiped his sleeve across his mouth. A disgusted sneer scrunched his face. He hated vomiting. He hated how he remembered everything so vividly. He hated that damn witch. Or sorceress. Whatever evil witches were. At least that's what he thought she must have been. How else did she put this curse on Erica and him? He steadied his thudding heart and shook his head.

A smudged mirror greeted him when he looked up. He squinted and bit out, "We'll fuck. Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore." The joke felt flat to him. He'd said it too many times. He actually missed that movie now.

British accent. Different face. Different body. It really did happen again. Another body snatcher life.

James let his hands pull at his short dark curls as he leaned against the table under the mirror, "What does that make this then? 17 other lives? No. It'd be 18 including this one..."

He screamed internally in frustration and anguish. James tried to pull himself together. He had to focus. If he didn't focus, he'd never find her again. Center. He needed to center himself.

He took in slow breaths through his nose and slowly let it seep past his lips. He hummed throaty tenor notes and practiced a musical scale. Echoes of duets past rang through his head. Slowly his heart and mind calmed.

The mirror glinted against the sunlight when he opened his eyes again. Bright cerulean eyes stared back at him. The same eyes he'd first been born with.

"Same eyes though. Always the same eyes, just like her," he let out a bitter snort. At least that was the one constant thing in his life. Besides, always finding her. And dying. That was pretty consistent too.

He touched his new face and pulled at it this way and that. He was much lighter than he'd ever been as a human. Caucasian. That hadn't happened in a while. James tilted his head and analyzed the visage that stared back at him. He sort of resembled that man that played that one alien caped crusader. The one who always wore that big S, but his secret farm boy identity. He, for the life of him, couldn't remember the superhero's name.

A frown marred his features as he tried to recollect who that was. His mind went blank. James rolled his eyes and sighed. It'd been a long time since he really thought about superheros, anyways. He used to love that sort of stuff as a kid in his first life. That was before dying repeatedly though. Plus, he doubted that he was back in the future so he could enjoy said comics again.

He inspected his new hands. They looked fairly big and strong. Flexing them, he found that he had a pretty good grip as well. His nails were neatly cut short, and not bitten to the nail bed. This guy didn't have his bad habit. Plus, these hands were much softer than his previous hands. That was a first.

Was he finally rich in this life? He snorted again. James was too used to being poor to really hope for too much. Riches didn't come to him without hard work in any life, after all. That just seemed to be his lot in life. Lives?

He forced a toothy smile onto his face. Deep dimples dotted each cheek, and he found straight white teeth reflected back at him. Good teeth. That was always a bonus. James didn't think they had orthodontists or good enough dentists around here if he'd found himself in a body with shitty teeth.

His clothes were odd and reminded him of the regency costumes back in the day. But was it really a costume? James shook his head. It looked way too well worn to be a costume. When, where, and who the hell was he this time?

Curiosity covered him as he got up, stretched out his back, and got into a boxing position. James held his arms curled slightly in front of him, his hands fisted. He bounced on the balls of his feet to a familiar beat. Within moments of getting into a groove, he tried a couple punches. After ten proper punches he felt winded.

This body would need work. He wiped off the sweat that dribbled down his brow. At this point, James figured that he wouldn't even try any practice katas. His heart raced as he took in heaving breaths. Definitely way too outta shape.

James plonked down back onto the bed and let out a deep sigh. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. It didn't work though. He kept seeing bright smiling hazel eyes peering up at him.

Every time he tried to save her, he died. He was never able to save her. Every time he tried, he'd just manage to fail... His heart clenched.

Seeing her in each new life hurt. Guilt, shame, and longing always shot through him. It tore at him to know that she could never remember him right away through their cycles. Never immediately remembered what they had, had together. This was a familiar heart ache that burned into him every time. It was one of the many aspects about the cycling James hated.

He never lost hope that she might recognize some part of him through. Even if the haze of rebirth seemed to take him away from her. If she could only remember even just a speck of before. Of how deeply he thoroughly he loved her. Warts and all. It would make dating and getting to know one another again easier. So far though, it hadn't ever panned out. No matter how hard he hoped. He never gave up though.

A dark thought pushed past his burning optimism. What if this time, there was no her? Or him? He tore that vile thought apart and shoved it out of his mind.

It always got confusing when she switched like that. He had no control over it, but it didn't matter because they always had each other. No matter what gender, race, or species Erica was, he'd love her all the same. Her soul always managed to shine through whatever casing the universe decided to shove her into.

Another dreary possibility ate at him. What if they never have a happy ending? Forever doomed to die before they married each time.

James always hoped and prayed that perhaps it wouldn't happen. Maybe they wouldn't die too soon again. Maybe they would finally get to grow old together. He always thought that in each restart.

Doubt lingered in his heart. What if he was wrong again? It felt like the walls were going to cave in on him with that thought. His breath got caught in his throat as images of brutality inflicted on the both of them flashed behind his eyes again. He stamped down the darkness that kept telling him everything was hopeless. Fire seemed to rage in him.

No! He'd had enough. This time **would** different. There **was** hope. They would grow old together this time. Both of them deserved more than this endless cycle of death.

It was time to mobilize. The sooner he got his shit together, the sooner he could find her that in mind, James did what he always did in a new foreign body. He a searched his pockets. He pulled out a bulging leather pouch, a rolled up sheet of fancy parchment, a sloshing metal flask, and a slim silver pocket knife sheathed in leather.

James raised his brow at the strange haul from his rather deep pockets. He pulled himself to sit cross-legged on his bed, and stared at the things in front of him. He decided to look into the pouch first. It felt quite heavy. He untied the leather tie, and peered past the leather lips. Inside, he found a mound of gold coins. James held up a gold coin against the light that streamed onto the bed.

He squinted at it, trying to read the embossed words, "1810. One pound. England."

"Well that tells me where and when I am. Gotta be in England in 1810 or thereabouts," he tossed the coin up into the air and deftly caught it with one hand before it fell. Good reflexes. That'd be handy.

A foggy memory brushed the back of his mind. Suddenly, images swept past him. A tall dark haired man with strange expensive clothing, impressive side burns, and a stiff countenance wrote him something before giving him a bag of coins.

'I should hope to see you soon, George. Do try to not wander too far,' his sad smile made something twist inside of James. Was that guy this body's brother?

'Mayhaps, Fitz. One never knows where my new adventure will lead,' a deep bitter chuckle echoed out in his mind before the memory dissipated into nothingness.

That guy really looked familiar though. How did he know him? Was he an actor from somewhere? Because he'd never known anyone like that the last time he was in the 1800s. It wasn't like street urchin girls really knew a lot of people to begin with. Especially not rich looking dudes. And was that other guy him? Was he George? And who the hell names their kid Fitz? James snorted at that thought.

His eyes roamed the room, and spotted something that caught his attention. A large leather pack leaned against a nearby wooden desk. In front of it were two tall black leather riding boots with one boot carelessly left on its side. Was that all he had now besides the stuff he had in his pockets, and the clothes on his back? A disappointed sigh escaped him as he turned his attention back towards what was left on the bed. It was always harder to start over with little to nothing on hand. That much was very apparent in each life.

He plucked the piece of rolled up parchment and spread it out on the bed in front of him. Maybe this paper would be helpful. He scanned the parchment paper over once. Then twice. Nope. He most certainly wasn't seeing things. It really did say that.

 _'In the eyes of God and all his subjects in the year of our lord 1810, let it be known that one George Wickham of Derbyshire, Pemberley,_

 _has forgone his parsonage in the village of Kympton and the annual income entitled to it willed by his godfather, the late Fitzwilliam Darcy Sr._

 _In exchange, his godbrother, one Fitzwilliam Darcy Jr., has bequeathed one lump sum payment of 3000 pounds equal to that of the parsonage's value.'_

Three signatures signed the bottom of the short contract. Darcy's looping signature stood out beside Wickham's neat scrawl, and the witness's messy scribble. James sat back and held the piece of parchment in his hand. This was another parallel world. He shook his head and leaned back on his hands. The multiverse hypothesis was definitely more of a true fact now in George's opinion.

He let out a deep rumbling laugh, "I'm the bad guy of a regency romance novel."

A deep sigh escaped him again as he closed his eyes, "It's not like I'm actually a bad person. I mean I try not to be. In any case, I don't plan on sticking to this douche bag's personality in either case..." He opened his eyes and glared at the room around him. No way was he going to be the bad guy. Besides, didn't that novel start in 1813 or something? None of that bad stuff happened yet, right? So this guy was more or less a clean slate.

James...no. George now... George deeply sighed once more and let himself fall onto his back. He stared at the ceiling and muttered, "This is my life now, and I'm going to make the most of it. And if my luck actually holds out this time, I'll be able to find Erica sooner rather than later too. Maybe I might even be able to finally marry her this time. Working limbs, Erica, and a buncha kids. One day..." A goofy smile tugged on his lips. It was certainly a sweet dream.

George cracked his back and a deeply satisfied sound flew past his lips, "I guess I should keep snooping. If the guy...or rather...If I rented a room here for the night, then someone's probably bound to come and ask about me eventually, right?"

He tilted his neck from one side to side intent on cracking it, but nothing happened. George scowled, "Oh yeah. Not my old body. Right. Right."

George heaved himself up and retrieved the large leather back pack, which now up close, looked more like a leather rucksack. He then proceeded to empty it out onto the bed alongside the metal flask, and silver pocket knife. A bevy of things fell out of the rucksack and bounced onto his bed.

Humming, George pawed through the interesting assortment that now lay in front of him. A black felt hat that suspiciously felt like a beaver sat beside a gold pocket watch. The pocket watch was attached to a chain and a yellow bejeweled weight on one end of the chain. It's cover had a carved stag in a rose gold. He idly wondered what the stag. It also dawned on him that this guy was kind of wealthy. Just this stuff alone with the big bag of pounds was worth...what?

George scratched his smooth chin and hummed thoughtfully, "With an inflation rate of about 2.5 percent give or take...that would make just the money alone about...Fuck. Worth about 228, 806 pounds. That is a lot more than I usually start out with in each cycle."

A low whistle escaped him, "Well, shit. Huh..." He shook his head, a bemused grin dimpled his cheeks. Say what you will about money not buying happiness. It sure bought security in the knowledge that he wouldn't have to sleep in the streets and eat out of the trash. With that reassurance that this life cycle wouldn't end because of poverty, he continued rummaging through the pile of stuff on his bed.

George found a small box of matches, a tin of ground tobacco, and an actual wooden pipe. At that he couldn't help but chuckle. He'd only really seen wooden pipes like this in cartoons.

Gently putting them by his other things, he found an old fashioned iron key. An image of tall doors that led to a familiar room infiltrated his mind. Shaking that image away, he continued perusing through everything. There was a black inkwell, a silver fountain pen, a thick beeswax candle, a pair of scissors, some black leather gauntlets, an old school shaving kit, a bow tie, several cravats, a comb, sheathes of paper, and a small silver hand mirror. It too had a stag. Were stags this guy's favorite animal or something?

He shrugged and unbundled the cloth beside it all. Inside neatly folded up were two white handkerchiefs, three dark breeches, two well made tail coats; one a dark blue and the other a deep black, two waist coats, and several neutral high collared shirts. Under it all lay, a pair of dark leather oxfords along with many pairs of wool socks. All in all, it was much more than he thought a man would carry in this century.

Biting his lower lip, he frowned as he thought over why he had so much stuff. It didn't make sense.

He clenched his hand into a fist and smacked it into his open palm as an idea jolted into his brain, "I'm homeless and jobless, aren't I? That's why I have so much stuff this time around. That's probably what that memory meant by adventure."

A great tired sigh escaped past his lips, "I knew it was too good to be true."

He neatly put all his new loot into the large leather rucksack and let himself flop back onto the bed. Closing his eyes he did his best to try and think of what to do now. No ideas came to him. Instead, a wave of exhaustion ate away at his strength helping him fall gently into Morpheus's arms.

After a while through his dreams, more and more pieces of the original George Wickham's past memories slotted neatly into his brain. Fuzzy images and scenes danced behind his eyelids.

His father had been the childhood friend of his godfather before he came into his inheritance. Due to his intelligence and good work ethic his father was hired as the Land Steward of the Pemberley Estate. Some years after, he married his mother, and a year later he was born. Their happiness only lasted a year and a half, before small pox took his parents away from him.

Fitzwilliam Darcy Sr. then took him in as a godson to be raised amongst his two year old son. They were baptized together at the same church, and ended up growing up to be close companions. Darcy viewed him as the little brother he'd always asked for, and George viewed him as a good older brother in return. They didn't notice the class difference that divided them while they were children, but everyone else did.

Then a decade later, Georgiana came along and suddenly a baby sister was added to his family, in his mind. Although, Lady Anne, Darcy Sr.'s wife, made it abundantly clear, that he wasn't a real part of their family. It didn't matter though because he could always count on Darcy Jr. and his godfather. No matter what kind of trouble he found himself in, he was always able to he could count on them.

His godfather treated him like his own flesh and blood, and thusly he never wanted for anything material wise in his childhood. Darcy jr. held a special spot in his father's heart as the first born though, and even though past-George logically knew why, envy still snuck into his heart as they grew older. It didn't help that Darcy was older and more favored by the societal circles around them because they didn't consider George a true born gentleman.

Even though he wasn't born into the money, they raised him with the same morals and manners as though he was. It still didn't matter to some, though. The ruder ladies that would visit would always loudly whisper when he was within earshot, 'He certainly acts the part of a gentlemen though he is but a poor pauper.'

Those comments stung, and further grew the envy that clung to his heart. Later on as they grew into young men, Darcy Jr. and George accidentally witnessed people make their fortunes through gambling. Darcy Jr. snubbed it saying that gentlemen like them didn't need it, but George was interested. Maybe if he had a bit of money in the future, he could try to make his own fortune through gambling. Then those stupid people in the upper echelons of society would stop sneering down at him. They would finally be equals.

At the dawn of his adulthood, he went to Cambridge, graduated third in his class, got his barrister license, and did his best to make his godfather proud. It didn't matter in the end though. Not six months later, his godfather died from small pox, just like his parents. Lady Anne soon followed after her husband, not three months later. Darcy Jr. was now slotted as the master of the Pemberley estate, and the societal gulf between them became a canyon.

A disgusted feeling rose in him as he watched past-George's life through a haze of foggy dreams. If all that was true, it was no wonder that Darcy never forgave the original Wickham. Not only did he squander the fortune that his godfather had given him, but he also tried to seduce the little girl he had grown up with as an older brother figure. Internally, he shivered in revulsion. He wasn't into incest, and it seemed pretty much like it from his point of view.

The dream suddenly ended when pain started to bloom in his gut. His eyes jolted open and he bolted upright in bed. Silence stretched out around him.

George pondered and analyzed the information avalanche that fell through his mind. He resolved that even though George ended up as a horrible person in the end, he hadn't started off as one. Shaking his head at the craziness of his situation, he decided that it was time to get his bearings beyond this room.

He quickly relieved himself, changed, and decided to wander downstairs due to his grumbling stomach. How long had he been asleep? Also, was food even available at this inn?

* * *

He wandered out of his room and down a slightly narrow hallway. The ceiling was kind of low, and everything was wooden and plain. It still gave off a warm feeling though. He stopped before short steep stairs leading down to the first floor landing. A resigned sigh leaked out of him. George had always hated steep stairs. He hurried down it, pushing past the anxiety that he would tumble and fall to his death. Again.

Once he came out of the stair well, he felt as though he could breath properly again. Looking around, he found that the tavern also had a sort of eating area with a bar pushed to one side. His stomach grumbled grumpily at him. He patted it lightly, silently promising the comfort of food.

Gently maneuvering through the throng of people, he plopped himself down at the bar. There wasn't a menu, but that made sense in this time period. Not everyone knew how to read yet. He was more fortunate in that respect.

He managed to flag down a friendly looking balding man with a dirty apron, and ordered a bowl of thick vegetable soup along with bread and tea. Mr. Hobborlain, who was the owner of this place it turned out, said it would take a bit because a rich widow's household was hanging around and they'd ordered food first. He didn't mind though, first come and first serve made sense to him.

While he sat there hungrily waiting for his food, he noticed that no one around him really looked like a book character. No one acted stiff or repetitive like some sort of NPC in a video game either. They all looked like normal people from 1810. He inwardly shrugged, maybe this place was all mixed up with both reality and the fictitious story Jane Austen came up with. It wasn't the first time that it would've happened to him.

A bowl of soup suddenly took over the majority of his attention along with a hearty piece of bread, and a large mug of tea. Mr. Hobborlain winked at him, "My treat, lad. Thanks for waiting. Not too many folks dressed like gentry would've stuck around so polite like."

"Ah. Thank you very much," he looked up and blinked repeatedly at the sudden kindness that had befallen him. It was uncommon for people to do this. Free wasn't exactly a common thing in the 1800s.

A beaming grin broke through Mr. Hobborlain's face, "Think nothing of it, lad. Madam Cecilia certainly made my business booming these past couple days, so I figure what's a little gift to a kind lookin' fellow." He gave him a cordial nod before tending to another customer.

The grin that was about to pull up his lips, quickly got demolished by the rank smell of the drunkard that decided to sit a single seat away from him. He looked grimy, grim, and a little dangerous even with his rather thin frame. He seemed to be continuously looking around and leering at women now and again, not matter the age. If someone were to ask George, he would've said that creepy man was a meth head.

George gritted his teeth against the smell of him, and did his best to choke down his soup. The soup almost escaped him when the creep looked past him with that look on his face. He knew that look. That predatory pedophilic look. He'd been killed because of that.

Hard hatred bloomed in his gut. If that bastard did anything... George clenched his fist so tightly his knuckles turned white. He'd do something. He wouldn't let anyone get hurt like he and Erica did. Never again. Not if he could help it.

A young girl, with long brown hair and brown doe eyes, came up beside him and tried to get the inn keeper's attention. Instead, she attracted the attention of the creep. He started trying to talk to the kid, but she effectively rebuffed him. The asshole brushed against the poor girl while she tried to avoid his touch.

His jaw tightened and he stopped eating. He saw the creep's eyes flash and as he lunged forward to grab the girl, George let his instincts take over. His feet were light as deftly stood up, gently spun the girl behind him, and stopped the creep in his steps with an strong hand.

Said creep forcefully pushed his hand back and sneered, "S'not your business, nancy boy. Girl and me were just having a conversation." He sent sneaking dirty looks at the young girl behind George.

He felt the little girl quiver in fear behind him. And his blood boiled as he bit out, "You clearly wanted more than a chat with this nice young lady." A dangerous tone snuck into his voice as his blue eyes turned glacial.

The noise in the inn among the din of people hushed at this commotion.

"And how would that be your problem, huh? Girls' right for the picken' at this age any-" before he could continue George punched him in the throat.

The creep promptly dropped to the ground and flopped like a fish. George stared dispassionately at the man that he'd just downed and waited. It wasn't a gaurentee that it would keep him down. He'd made sure his throat punch was gentle since he hadn't wanted to kill him. If he could help it, there wouldn't be blood on his hands this time around. The creep held his hands to his throat for mere moments before blacking out and going limp.

Silence reigned around him as the patrons stared at him. His heart pounded against his ears. It worked. The room seemed to tunnel, until a warm hand gently clasped his shoulder. George looked at Mr. Hobborlain and murmured, "I do apologize, Mr. Hobborlain-"

"S'alright, lad. It was a right thing you did. That was one scary action you took, but it took care of the problem," he patted George's shoulder again before coming out from behind the bar and roughly kicking the downed creep until he was out of the inn.

Everyone was still stock still and staring at him. He looked around at everyone and sheepishly smiled, "It is quite alright now. The brute is gone."

Suddenly, everyone began to move and the noise around him gradually increased. Women looked at him and flushed, while men gave him appreciative nods. It felt uncomfortable, but he would endure it. He didn't know where to get food from anywhere else yet, anyways. He turned around and set out to figure out if the little girl was okay. But when he turned, she was already in a woman's tight embrace as they both cried. He assumed that, that woman was the girl's mother.

The woman hiccuped and smoothed her sobbing daughter's face and hair. She peppered the younger girl with kisses and kept murmuring assurances that everything would be okay. The little girl, in turn, clung to her mother like a little koala.

He let out a relieved sigh and sat back down. His stomach grumbled in protest and he inwardly chuckled. Oh yeah. He wasn't done eating yet. Slowly, he consumed his soup, bread and tea.

A little while after he had finished his food, he felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned and found that it was the kid's mother. Tilting his head in slight confusion he turned and stood up. He stared down at the woman for a moment before nodding, "Madam? What can I do for you?"

Her grey eyes watered before she wiped it away with a hanky. A watery smile covered her face, "No, no, good sir. I came here to thank you for saving my dear Ruthie. Without you...I dare not think what that man could've gotten away with, with the crowd hindering me for getting to my daughter. And on the day my husband had to run an errand away from us... You, dear sir, are an angel. If there is anything in my power that I can help you with, please do just ask. My family is in your debt."

At that, he was right dumbfounded. He hadn't done it to get anything out of it. George bit the corner of his lip before sending a guileless grin down at her, "If you could direct me as to where one goes to locate a job around here, I would be most grateful."

The woman's eyes glinted for a moment before her face lit up with excitement, "What can you do, good sir?" There was an anticipatory tone in her voice that he didn't quite understand, but he decided to ignore it for now.

He raised his brow and chuckled, "Well, madam. I am able to do a lot of things. I went to Cambridge University, so I am well educated and well read. Licensure wise, I do have a barrister license. Additionally, I learned how to be a land steward while I was growing up with my godfather-"

She let out a delighted gasp cutting him off, "Oh! Are you the Pemberley Steward's barrister boy? The one that got given over to his master as a godson when him and his missus died of smallpox?"

George blinked a bit taken aback at that question. He slowly nodded and carefully examined the woman in front of him, "Yes. That would be me. Do I know you, madam? For you seem to know the particulars of my childhood rather well."

A sheepish smile snaked onto the woman's face, "Oh no. It's just rumors spread like fire around here, and no gentry has ever done that before. I'm Mrs. Dorathea Lynch and I have the perfect job for you."

Suddenly, the inn door creaked open and he felt it. George turned and his heart called out. The crowd at the door seemed to part and he saw her. His gaze burned into her and he knew that she felt it. The same hazel eyes that haunted his memories stared back at him. It really was her. Erica.

* * *

AN: You guys totally make my day. Truly. Thanks for all your support and interest in this story. A big thanks to those that reviewed. Ya'll deserve virtual chocolate chip cookies; Kage no Akuma-Shadow Demon and Saskiamq.

Kage no Akuma-Shadow Demon: Thank you! This cover art for my story is my favorite out of the three too. I did change it up a little though because the title was a wee bit hard to see against the trees.

1\. I'm glad that you like him so far. It'll definitely be a bit of a slow burn even though they do know each other. Rather intimately, actually. George will be far more readily invested ahead of Cecilia in the romance department, but that's just because he remembers more of their past lives since he didn't go through as many.

That is exactly right! Cecilia unconsciously reorganizes him, but it might take a while for her to figure that out. It definitely gave George hope though.

1\. Which she would undoubtedly hate. She already kind of hates the social expectations on her now. That's why she's chosen to treat her staff differently inspite of what society may say. She does stick with speaking to them differently than how she would want to though. It's all much more formal than she's used to.

2\. That is correct! Women, especially those of means, were considered as things more or less that either took money into the family or took money out the family.

And that is also correct to a degree. It was more like for a majority of the 1800s women were confined to domestic work, such as running the household. However, that was only if you were from the middle or upper class. If a woman was financially stuck in the lower class, she would have to take poorly paid jobs that didn't necessarily stay in the house.

Women were allowed to be involved in business outside of the home with a male guardian's/husband's approval, but that would make the societal circles look at that family in a poor light.

Widows were legally entitled to a dower share or a third of the value of her husband's estate after his death. Although, depending on their relationship a husband could increase the share beyond one-third in his will. Besides that, money could also be set aside as a wife's settlement when they married, which would be used to support the wife, and or any children that they may have should he die. With money, widowhood could then emancipate a woman letting her have similar rights to that of a man, but only when it came to finances and having an estate.

3\. She would absolutely hate that. Just knowing that he would be tempted into forcing his will upon her, would make her hate him.

4\. Oh, it would definitely sour her relationship if that were to happen.

5\. It would certainly be too imbalanced for her taste. Plus, Cecilia would never want someone that looked at her and only saw a material possession and only considered her worthy because of her money.

Amanda was way more sheltered in comparison to Cecilia. Cecilia's only died in two apocalyptic events, luckily. Some of her other deaths happened because of exposure, starvation, dehydration, drowning, disease, or accidents. However, the biggest cause of her deaths were mostly due to crazy murderous assholes.

Saskiamq: Thank you! Yes, he has now inserted himself firmly into Cecilia's household. Mind you, he definitely wants to be more than just within her household. Rumors are definitely running wild now behind the scenes because he was just a little too clear with his words. George has forgotten that in public places there are more ears than just those at his table. He is certainly much more of a man of action in comparison to the original Wickham.

They have certainly met multiple times in their different life times, but not through all of Cecilia's lives. Their paths only crossed 18 times including now.

I'm really excited about that part too. It'll be a great big surprise, and some of them won't believe that they won't have to sleep on the ground, in a basement, or with a dozen other people.

Too much magic won't kill her, but it could put her in a coma if she isn't careful.

Oh, they certainly will.

If Darcy cornered the both of them, George's sarcastic sense of humor would certainly come out and Cecilia would definitely dig into Darcy if he were to pick on George.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Afternoon light shone through the smog of the London air as they exited the Hobborlain inn. The foul scent that clung to the city assaulted her senses and she shoved down the urge to gag. Country air was much sweeter and less entrenched in shit like the air here. Mind you, it was still much better than the air quality she had found in her last life.

People pushed past her, giving the two of them nods now and again. Parasols cast shade ahead of the ladies that held them, forcing those that wanted to get past them to give them a wider berth on the street. This caused strangers to press her closer into George, but she didn't truly mind it.

Her arm felt like it belonged in the crook of George's elbow. It actually felt comfortable hanging there instead of awkward and uncomfortable, as she had initially assumed she'd feel. His warmth radiated through her and instead of feeling suffocated she felt something akin to being complete. It made her wary though, the hows and whys were missing and put a slight sense of suspicion through her.

Who was this man really? How and why did his mere presence put her at ease and on edge?

She gritted her teeth against the onslaught of questions she so dearly wanted to ask. Cecilia knew that it wouldn't be proper, in any sense, to interrogate him though. Not here. So she let her mind try to come up with the best way to start a conversation with a near stranger. A stranger she felt a certain magnetism to.

He cleared his throat and gently pulled her through the throng of people trying to shop while there was still daylight. As they walked along through the crowded streets of London Cecilia spotted one of nearby shops. A candle shop. It was one of the shops that she wanted to visit first, but that was probably a coincidence.

George's bright eyes warmed at the sight of her, "Would candles be one of the items missing that we require in order to furnish the manor under the correct light, mistress?" His tone was light and jokular, but his eyes darkened when he addressed her.

She couldn't help the flush that spread across her cheeks. Her hands twitched and a giddy feeling spread through her belly. The urge to clasp her cheeks and squeal flashed through her mind for a brief moment before she squashed it. Just getting called mistress by him spread butterflies through her stomach.

What was she? A crushing teenager? She was far too old for this. How in the world was she so attracted to him? It didn't make sense.

Cecilia cleared her throat and attempted to hide the heat that she could still feel splashed across her face, "I do require quite an abundant amount of candles for the manor. After purchasing them we may be required to stop by the inn once more in order to load it up onto one of the carts I commissioned my House Steward to hire."

Dark curls shone against the late afternoon light as he nodded in agreement. A smirk pinched dimples into his cheeks while a knowing look gleamed in his eyes.

Drat. He had seen her blush. She cursed her inability to push that down well enough. He didn't acknowledge her embarrassment though, which she was grateful for.

As they continued at their steady pace, a comfortable silence hung between them. When they were almost at their destination she took a fortifying breath, and tried her best to get the words out without stumbling, "How did you come to find yourself at the Hobborlain inn, Mr. Wickham? From what I am aware of, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley has a townhouse further in London that you have access to as his godbrother, do you not?"

George tilted his head, amusement underlying his tone, "Oh? The rumors run deep even from over the seas then, madam Price?"

She flushed and bit her lip before sputtering out, "Ah. It was just-"

With a slight laugh and a wave a hand, George cut her off, "Do not fret over it all too much, dear madam. I shan't inquire as to how you know my familial connections or past. Rumors, I fear have already spread far and wide when it comes to any sort of ward of a family found in gentry. They collected a lost duckling and now all the people under the sun know far too much about what should be considered private." A sigh escaped him as he shook his head.

He gently opened up the candle shop door causing a bell to jingle jangle above them. Cecilia's steps faltered. When she didn't immediately go through the entrance way, a curious confused frown pinched his face, "Madam Price?"

"Yes. I do apologize. I was just caught slightly unaware about those facts, and it took but a moment for me to process it all,"

"That is alright. After you, mistress," he nodded deferentially at her and motioned for her to go past him.

She nodded, biting down her lower lip as she brushed past him. There were boxes upon boxes that lined the back wall and the sides of the store. A glass display separated them from all of it, while showing off the various candles that the store sold. It smelt of fresh wax, oiled cotton, and the old stale musk of people. That made sense though since it didn't appear to have any open windows in order to air out the store.

A creaking old timer popped out from the back of the shop and paused to stare at them. He squinted past her and gave George a considering look before nodding to himself, "Hello madam and sir. Welcome to Charles Anddals' Candle Shoppe. I am Charles Anddals, what can I get for the two of you today?"

Cecilia frowned slightly at his odd actions before she shook off the suspicion that bubbled up from her belly, "Good day to you, Mr. Anddals. I am madam Price. I would like to purchase 100 boxes of beeswax candles if you have them."

Mr. Anddals white bushy brows rose up so high that she was momentarily afraid that they would disappear into his hair line, "Are you certain that is what you require, madam Price? Please be aware that one box already contains 36 candles. Did you perhaps mean to say 100 beeswax candles instead?"

She shook her head resolutely and curtly declared, "You did not mishear my words, dear sir. I truly did mean to say 100 boxes of beeswax candles. Is it possible for one to purchase that many candles at this establishment, Mr. Anddals?"

Mr. Anddals' eyes narrowed an glinted as a calculating look drew across his face, "Why of course, madam Price. You may, but I am afraid that I would only be able to send you off on your way with 10 boxes for now because otherwise I would run out of stock. If you would still like the 100 boxes, I could send over the rest bit by bit over the span of a week to your domicile." The slight condescension in his voice rang out like a bell to them when he addressed her.

Did he not believe they could afford that? Her disbelief dissipated into anger. Inwardly she sneered at him, but managed to contain herself. It wouldn't do, to make a scene and dissuade the stupid shopkeeper from doing business with her again. Although, with magic at her fingers, she doubted it. With this big of any order, any candles that she would duplicate endlessly, wouldn't be questioned.

Cecilia breathed through her flared nostrils as she tilted her head in agreement, "That would be kind of you, sir. I do intend to do that."

"If that is your wish. The total outcome of that would be...Lets see... With 4 pence per pound that would make it... Ah hah! 154 pounds straight. And how would Mr. Price be paying?" A mean smile covered his face as he steeped his fingers over a wooden abacus.

Cecilia didn't bat an eye, but she could've sworn George almost choked when the shop keep spouted out that number. Or perhaps it was because the weird old man assumed that he was her husband. Oddly enough, that thought didn't bother her as much as she thought it would have.

She shook her head, partly to dissipate that though and to catch Mr. Anddals attention, "He's my-"

George cleared his throat and gently took hold of Cecilia's gloved hand with his own. He grinned down at her, his eyes crinkling before he turned to the skeptical shop keep, "With coin good sir. I would, however, inquire as to what documentation this will produce since that is quite a vast amount to just dispense without proof of purchase. Kind sir."

He produced the proper amount and stacked them up in a line on the glass counter. The coins glinted against the streaming light, and Cecilia could've sworn that money signs had flashed across the old man's eyes.

Mr. Anddals watery brown eyes just about popped out of his head when George actually produced the amount he had demanded from her. He stuttered out, "Ah- Ah- Yes. Right away. Here let me just get a piece of parchment and a fountain pen." With that he hurriedly left through the side entrance he had initially come in through.

She stared up at him in confused wonder. Her chest constricted. Was that his personal life savings he just handed? Did he do that just to spare her the effort of explaining her elaborate lie to some schmoe?

Guilt ate away at her. She'd pay him back any and all the money that he may have to use today. Cecilia cursed her lack of forethought. She must not be the only Price walking around England. Of course they wouldn't just assume she was the rich widow when she was clearly walking around with a gentleman that didn't look like a servant. She definitely needed to purchase and charm some servant uniforms.

When it seemed as though they were completely alone for a moment, Cecilia tugged on his sleeve and murmured, "You did not have to do that." The heat in her voice wasn't as prominent as she wanted, but her displeasure was clear.

He tilted his head, "I am aware of that, but I have decided to spare you the effort of correcting people's wrong assumptions today."

George let a rogish smile spread across his face as he winked, "After all, as your Land Steward I am to increase the capital of your estate. How am I to do that if people keep casting aspirations on your reputation? T'would be easier this way, at least until we are at your estate, mistress."

She clenched her hands together and fidgeted as a slight flush brushed against her cheeks, "Thank you. I shall repay all that you have spent today, as recompense for my oversight in this matter."

A grin grew onto his face, "You are most welcome, my lady."

Cecilia's blush faded as she rolled her eyes, "I am no lady, sir. I do not have an ennobled title."

He barked out a short laugh, sliding closer to her, "I am quite aware, but you should consider that it was but a mere amount of flattery, madam. For your countenance is just as beauteous as a good lady."

She huffed and did her damnest to drag down the blush that threatened to rise to her face, "At that, I do have an inquiry that I would like you to answer if-"

Mr. Anddals strode back into the room waving a piece of parchment above his head along with a bevvy of boxes under his other arm, "And here we are, Mr. Price. All the papers that declare you have purchased 100 boxes of beeswax candles. They shall be delivered to-?"

George curtly nodded, "Brinsop Court Manor in Herfordshire by the Meyrton village."

The same calculating look from before spread across his face. Mr. Anddals smiled wide enough to show off his cracked and crooked teeth, "Ahhh the old manor house with a moat. Good to know the new owners. Here are the 10 boxes in this bag. I shall have the others sent up with all due haste, good sir and madam."

Before George could give his thanks to the irritating old man, Cecilia tilted her head to him and let out a short, "Thank you."

Mr. Anddals blinked in surprise for a moment before clucking, "Ahh... You are very welcome." Once it appeared that George seemed to be the one with money, she felt like she all but disappeared from this man's radar.

As they exited the store in utmost haste, Cecilia strung her arm through his. A frown marred her face as she quietly kept up with George's long strides.

He peered over at her and sighed before tugging her a little closer to him as they walked. George coughed out and stared hard out at the sea of people that surrounded them, "That was an odd shop and an odd man, but we have gotten what we had been in search of. Shall we drop by the inn again as you suggested earlier?"

Cecilia was slightly startled by his words and her brooding look faded, "Yes, that would be prudent. On a completely different note, I am filled with an utmost curiosity as to who you are."

George hummed, "Oh? It seemed to me that you already knew of me with the mention of my god brother Darcy."

An embarrassed look pinched her face as she reluctantly looked away from him, "It is more that I have heard of you, but I no longer hold the rumors to be true to your character. Your heroism and manners prove that."

A hollow laugh rang out of him, "Perhaps all I am is gaiety and charm, madam. What shall we endeavor to order after this?"

She squeezed his arm and resolutely stated, "I, for one, do not believe that. Certainly you have charm, but the lack of levity in your eyes during certain times bellies your tone."

His steps slowed as a strange look flitted across his face, "Huh. Perhaps we can ruminate about that at a different time. Dusk is soon approaching after all."

Cecilia squinted at the sky and frowned, "That is true. We have much to order before the shops close at dusk. Books, clocks, furniture, all manner of clothes, art, jewelry, trinkets, plants and animals for the manor, games, guns, ammunition, and instruments." She ticked off her fingers one by one as she spouted off the items on her mental list.

George clucked his tongue, "My, my. That is quite a list, my lady. I fear I may have but a drop of my fortune after this."

Her jaw clinched as she looked away, worry whirled across her face, "Worry not. I shall replenish it all once we are done. It seems prudent to continue this charade for now unless someone assumes differently."

A charming grin lifted his lips and made his eyes dance, "As you wish, madam. I shall play the part with the utmost pleasure."

She snorted, "I am certain you will."

They quickly dropped off the candles, and went about the rest of their business with the waning light nipping at their heels. The other shops reacted in the same manner as the first. It wasn't an unexpected assumption in this day in age though, so Cecilia did her best to ignore the sting on her pride at their continued lie. They were even able to purchase a several sets of new clothes for all 40 of her new household.

Inwardly, she noted that she'd duplicate, charm and transfigure the uniforms and clothes that they bought while everyone was too busy to notice. Surely, some charms to make sure everything was comfortable, temperature controlled, and perfectly tailored would be a good thing. No matter the slight cost of stamina it might mean.

Although, in turn, Wickham's apparent fortune was dwindling the light of all their new purchases. She contented herself with the thought of returning all his money three fold once all was said and done. He didn't seem the slightest bit worried though, which made her wonder how much he could possibly have. From what she could recall, the real Wickham, didn't have much.

Was this someone in his skin like her? Inwardly, she shivered at that thought before shaking it away.

Not once did they discuss the strange chemistry between them, or her apparent knowledge of him without meeting him. He in turn never reveled why his gaze seemed to linger with a sense of familiarity whenever he caught sight of her. The air seemed to always heat and crackle with a certain intensity when they caught each other's eye for one moment too long.

It made a heady feel bloom in the pit of her stomach, warming regions she had no business of thinking about at the moment. There was still things to do. She had to concentrate.

Cecilia dawdled near the carts and carriages that were readied for them in front of the inn. Amongst the hustle and bustle of people loading things and people into the vehicles, she skirted near the horses, and all the wheels. Making sure that everyone's attention wasn't focused her on the least bit, Cecilia traced her fingers along the rough wood, her brow furrowing as sweat grew on her skin. Runes danced out of her fingers burning a subtle inlay against the wood. She did this repeatedly until even the horses's reigns were covered in her subtle design.

She'd have to somehow convince the actual owners of the carts and additional carriages that she'd rented to let her keep them. A tiered breath left her as she wriggled in her too hot dress in the wake of spending so much energy on charming and placing runes on all the vehicles. Cecilia was quite good at putting magic into the mundane, but doing the opposite wasn't something that she could do. At least without breaking the magically imbued item first. And she was pretty sure they would want intact vehicles and not just piles of wood.

With that worry in her mind, she helped her new household finish loading up the last items that they managed to buy in bulk. She took in a mischievous sort of pleasure as they balked, but obeyed her orders to let her help. It was strange to be a boss of people this time around, but so far she was liking it. Well, to a certain degree.

The London air cooled with a slight breeze as the evening light chased away the sunshine of the day. Blues bled into oranges, purples, and violets as the sky darkened. Wayward clouds drifted as wisps in the sky against the fog of London's pollution. Stars slowly faded into life as the sun dipped lower and lower.

Sour scents from the trash, feces, urine, musk of unwashed masses, along with the soot and lamp oil permeated the air. No matter how long she stayed out here in the city, she couldn't seem to become nose blind to it. Cecilia did her best to not rudely gag. She did her best to resolutely breath through her nose. It was a good reminder that the country air wouldn't be as disgusting.

She struggled to put on a calm facade against the stench, but broke into a smile that crinkled her eyes once she caught sight of the Hobborlains. With everything purchased, ordered and packed up, Cecilia bid adieu to the innkeepers as her new household loaded up into her carriage, and the two carts that she had rented for their journey.

Cecilia shot them a warm smile that made her eyes dance before giving them a slight nod, "Thank you, for letting us stay here. I very much appreciate it."

Adelbert puffed up with pride and beamed down at Cecilia, "Oh, think nothing of it, dear lady. You've been quite gracious as a guest."

Eunice pipped up with a wink, "If you have need of any place to stay in London again, please don't hesitate to think of us." A glint of a gold cross glimmered against the lamp light around Eunice's neck.

Cecilia blinked as an idea dawned on her, "I will. May God bless you and keep you."

A bright smile of recognition spread across Eunice's face, "And also you. May your journey be safe and swift."

* * *

As they traveled farther out of London and into the whistling trees of the country side, Cecilia felt her shoulders relax. The foul smells of the city faded away and soon scents of the night air filled her lungs. She took in a breath of the clean cold air, and shivered slightly. It stung her lungs and bit into her lips, but she was okay with it. At least she could stomach it.

By the time they were on the road towards Brinsop Manor, night had fallen and enveloped the land in a blanket of dark velvet speckled with stars. The moon hung high in the sky, a crescent of milky light amongst wispy clouds.

Dark trunks that surrounded their sides bled into the blue black of the night. Warm light from their carriages and carts glowed against the darkness that hugged them. The path ahead of them darkened to the deepest brown and only lightened when the glow of their lamp lights passed over it. Branches and leaves swayed in the canopy above them blocking the moon light now and again.

They comfortably settled into their seats as they quickly trotted down the dirt path. Dirt, rocks, and gravel flew up in their wake, but the people housed within the carts and carriages didn't bounce up and down as they should've. None were the wiser though.

Owls hoot now and again, along with frogs that croaked in tandem with chirping crickets; the symphony of the night. Their breaths were warmed despite the chill because of the charms that Cecilia had subtly inlayed into all the vehicles's wheels along with the horses's reigns.

It didn't seem like a long journey with the charms that she'd traced on all the carts, and the magic she'd imbued into her own horses and carriage. At least, she didn't think so, but that could've been because she'd been keeping the time with the pocket watch she had on hand. The others didn't see anything odd about it, although she'd seen surprise flash across George's eyes when they made it at the manor gate in less than 3 hours. He seemed to have a better grasp on time than the others did.

She shrugged off that thought and ate up the image of her new home with her eyes. This life would be better, she inwardly vowed. Glancing at the excited faces of her new friends and household, she amended that vow. Life would be better for all of them this time. She'd make sure of it.

* * *

AN: Thank you to everyone that showed interest in this story. A great big thanks to those that reviewed. You're all the best of the best; Kage no Akuma-Shadow Demon, Guest, Saskiamq, and Kikari no segaiu!

Kage no Akuma-Shadow Demon: You have impeccable timing.

Thank you very much! I'm glad that you love him so far. He is a very sweet and determined man. I'm happy that you enjoyed that too. I was really excited about writing out that scene. I ended up having to actually look up some self defense moves that a soldier might use and that was one of the things that came up.

You are correct. He did, in fact, get cursed with her halfway through her lifetimes. I'm delighted that you like the twist.

His slip in saying what he said so clearly will come to bite him back in the ass. He knows how to talk properly like a gentleman and can when he needs to, but he doesn't have to given his societal position. It was only really those in the gentry and those that associated with them that talked in that way. Otherwise, people talked however they wanted to talk amongst one another in the lower rungs of the social hierarchy. I honestly can't recall the last time I watched a regency movie, but you do make a good point. If people were too frank amongst 'polite company' they would be scandalized since it was considered uncouth for 'ladies and gentlemen' to do that.

You also bring up another good point. It was only really appropriate to talk casually and use each other's first names, when you considered gentry, amongst those that you either grew up with or your closest confidants. Not even a lot of married couples in Jane Austen's novels were comfortable enough to talk casually and use each other's names in private.

Guest: Thank you! I'm glad that you love Cecilia and George so far, and that you like my narrative voice. I hope that I keep up the quality in each chapter.

Saskiamq: Thank you, I thought so too. Oh, he brings it up eventually later on in this story. She doesn't recall a note of it, and he'll have to explain it all eventually. It'll be fun to flesh out that conversation.

Nope, he has no magic. He hadn't encountered a life wherein his soul was able to get imbued with magic. She always has a hard time remembering him throughout each life that she shares with him, but he's being much more obvious about their familiarity in this life.

That is true. He's been on both sides of the coin, so he really does see people as equals to him despite whatever station in society he might find himself in.

The situation with Darcy's sister hasn't yet happened with this George, so they're still on good terms.

Oh there are definitely rumors running around them, even more now with what he did in this chapter. If they start interfering with his life in this new chance of his, he will definitely not be passive about taking action or bending it to his advantage.

I'm so happy that you liked it!

Kikari no segaiu: Holy cracker jacks! Thank you for your bevvy of reviews on a bunch of my stories. I'm happy that you're liking the magic that I melded into this story, and that you think it's well written with a good enough twist so far.

I'm glad that you like my characters, and how she's been using magic to hold onto this new life that she's created here in this dimension.

Brinsop Court Manor is very much a real place in England. Thank you!

Thank you, I do aim to please. I hope that you liked this chapter!


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